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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596665">Songs of the Nameless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinelynn/pseuds/Quinelynn'>Quinelynn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, dark fantasy - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Adventure &amp; Romance, Curse Breaking, Curses, Dark Fantasy, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Steampunk, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:20:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinelynn/pseuds/Quinelynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carden Middleton lives as a hermit in a world called The Island, which condemns magic due to its evil history. But when Carden finally finds a way to break his childhood curse, it means finding magic users to help him in his adventure and to explore a strange and complex world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Hill Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Songs of the Nameless</p>
<p>Chapter 1: The Hill Door</p>
<p>Carden had never thought much about the door in the hill. To him, it was just another strange piece in the puzzle that was his town and his family’s farm.</p>
<p>Tottenheim was an okay place to live. The Peaks were growing smaller in population every year, as every old villager passed on and every young person took off to find better work and a better life somewhere else. The air was smoggy in the valleys, but if one travelled high enough, they could breathe in the white clouds and see a few starry nights. Tottenheim was one of those high enough places in The Peaks where people tried to keep on living. Carden’s Grandma had once told him that they must be the luckiest people on The Island, as they could see all the way from the Eastern Coast to the Western wetlands from their humble goat farm. Though, as Carden grew older, he realized that this was an exaggeration, but on clear nights he could see all the way to the Eastern Wall. Its lights dotted a line from north to south as far as he could see. On the Western side, the most he could see to was what he thought was the Curious River, although it could have just been some other random river.</p>
<p>The Peaks was once a place of great beauty, he was told. They were once a farming and trading country that gave aid to those travelling through the mountains, but that eventually changed once King Cleor found out about a new invention trains. As the industrial technologies advanced, and the factory cities grew, it became standard for other towns to follow. The Peaks, already with a failing economy from the technologies and conveniences that allowed the Eastwest to grow at an astounding rate, the King began to order the building of train tracks, and, along with that, the destruction of what was once a beautiful mountain range. While the new train lines brought prosperity to the small country for a short time, unfortunately Kind Cleor was not as knowledgeable about the placement trains as they were in the mountains of the Eastwest. So while the train towns in the Eastwest were built so that no mountain towns would be affected by the trains’ smoke, many town in The Peaks were not so lucky, and eventually the beauty that The Peaks was once known for become replaced by polluted, dark air. And soon, many small cities could not be kept alive and became ghost towns, while others seemed to be holding onto their ways of life by mere threads.</p>
<p>Tottenheim was one of these last small towns. Being in small valley between two of the largest mountain ranges, as well as one of the towns at the very high altitudes, it managed to continue on as a farming village for goats and cattle. The nearest train town was in Snowbush, about a half a day’s journey from the small town, but the smoke from the trains still made the air there dense and dirty, and many people still became sick from it.</p>
<p>Carden’s family had a goat farm there that had been there for many generations. And while many of the families in Tottenheim respected the Middleton’s, it became apparent to Carden growing up that many people were hesitant to step foot on their farm. He hadn’t thought much about it into Jack Jennings asked him about the door that day.<br/>Carden was six and the youngest in the village at that time. Jack was eight, and could be quite mean, Carden thought, but they were the only two boys in the village at that time that were younger than twelve. So, they would often be together.</p>
<p>“What’s behind that door? My parents told me not to go near it.”</p>
<p>Carden shrugged. “Grandma says that it’s dangerous, but Dad always tell ‘ma and ‘pa to knock it off when they talk about stuff like that.”</p>
<p>“Stuff like what?”</p>
<p>“You know, about evils and spirits and demons.”</p>
<p>Jack eyes filled with curiosity. “That’s why they put those big rocks in front of it?”</p>
<p>Carden looked back at the door. Large boulders were huddled in front of the door. It didn’t look like it could do much to keep someone away from it, though. The boulders were withered and scattered. They were covered in moss and barely covered the door.</p>
<p>“Those have always been there. I don’t know who put them there.”</p>
<p>“My grandad says your farm is evil. Says that one time a Middleton just up and killed all the animals there. He heard the gunshots. Wouldn’t say why ‘cept that they were sick and their bodies needed to be burned far and far away so that the ash wouldn’t get in the air and kill all the people here.”</p>
<p>“Well, the train smoke kills people too, maybe that’s why.”</p>
<p>“You stupid? The train smoke only kills you if you breathe a lot of it all the time. I mean, you’ve breathed it before and didn’t die. Why would they burn something far away if it was only once, and it wouldn’t have barely reached the main parts of the village this high up anyway.”</p>
<p>The boys began to wonder over to it. Carden examined from a distance, and noticed how the piles of rocks got bigger the closer they got to it. It was a white wooden door with simple panels on the front. The hinges were attached to the mountain that cradled Carden’s home from the southeast side. Grass and vines had grown around it at the top, but he rocks and boulders piled in front made it impossible to see much more than that.</p>
<p>He began to wonder; now the curiosity had clung on to him as well. Why was it there? Why had Grandma Cilva said to stay away? And how did something like that even get there?</p>
<p>Carden had barely reached his hand out to place in on the first large rock before he heard a deep scream coming from the house. Grandpa Coghar was on the front porch and climbing down fast, heading toward the boys with sweat dripping down his temple and a rough finger pointed right at him.</p>
<p>Carden froze in his spot, caught. He heard running steps and turned to see Jack running away down the street.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your great-great grandfather put them rocks there,” said Grandpa Coghar at dinner that night.</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because death is trapped in there,” replied Grandma Cilva.</p>
<p>“Mom!” said Carden’s father.</p>
<p>Carden’s father was tired man. He woke the house in the morning, made all the food, and did more and more of the work on the farm as ‘Pa was aging and becoming more brittle. When he yelled, the wooden table shook. As did the floor, as Carden could feel the shockwave from his chair. He was often surprised that the pots and pans and pictures and knickknacks that hand on the walls never fell when his father yelled. He yelled a lot more after Carden’s mother died last year, but it was mostly toward ‘Ma and ‘Pa. He rarely yelled at Carden. Rarely.</p>
<p>“When I was a boy,” said Grandpa Coghar, “There was one year where we found the door opened. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but then, the very next day, two bucks and three does were dead in the barn.”</p>
<p>“It was just a sickness.”</p>
<p>Grandpa chuckled. “Now what kind of sickness do you know that turns eyes white? Kills something overnight as though they just dropped dead?” He clapped his hands loudly for affect. “My grandad was so frightened at the sight of that he shot every last of the goats and had to start from new. And that’s when they shut the door up tight and built that wall in front of it. Course, the years have knocked it down into a path of rocks, but you won’t catch me going anywhere near that thing.”</p>
<p>“Dad, I said to knock it off. You’ll give Carden nightmares. Magic hasn’t been around since the Curse Wars ended and the magic users were all killed off.”</p>
<p>Grandpa Coghar scoffed. “Didn’t say nothing about magic.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carden had had a conversation about magic with his mother just a few months before she died. They were sitting on his bed together on a warm summer night. The moon and the air was unusually clear that night as the window had let the white light and the breeze take over Carden's bedroom. She was telling Carden a story about a people called The Cherish and how they could heal people with spells.</p>
<p>They got their power from the God of the Sun and the God of the Earth, and they often prayed to these gods in order to earn their abilities. And they had spells that they would use to heal people. but they weren't called spells. They were called songs, and they would sing these songs and they would help woman have babies, and help the deaf hear and the blind see. But some Cherish had even greater powers. Some could read minds or even predict the future.</p>
<p>"But it was too dangerous, Carden," she said. She pulled the yellow quilt up around them and she pet his head and smoothed back his dark hair, her hand shaking and her palm clammy, but Carden ignored that and focused on the story.</p>
<p>"But if we had a Cherish, he could make you better," said Carden.</p>
<p>She held him tighter. Her voice was softly swaying in and out in a musical way. "I need you to understand, Carden. The Cherish have not existed for a long time. Magic was too powerful for mankind to handle. People fought over it. And fought with it. That's why the practive was banished centuries ago."</p>
<p>"But you said they could heal."</p>
<p>"Yes, they could. But when people fought over it the healing parts of it weren't as important to people as the ways it could be misused. People only wanted to use magic for personal gain, and by then most of the Cherish barely had any connection to healing or to nature or to the Gods. People wanted power, and magic was how they got it, so the Four Worlds decided that they needed to get rid of it."</p>
<p>Carden was quiet for a while. "Is magic dangerous?" he asked.</p>
<p>"No," she said. She was almost squeaking now, as though her lungs didn't have much breath left to them. Carden could feel her hot breath on his shoulder. "Magic itself is not evil or dangerous, but it is powerful when it is in the hands of evil and dangerous people."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carden waited until the house was quiet to get out of bed. What Grandpa Coghar had said at dinner made Carden even more curious about the door. He was scared, but if it was magic, then why was it there. And where did it come from?</p>
<p>Outside, he could hear crickets and the wind as it whistled through the narrow valley, but the house was silent. He slid out of bed and crept silently to the main room where his father, like most nights, had fallen asleep on the couch after cleaning the kitchen and pre-preparing for breakfast the next morning. He tip-toed past the couch and slipped out the back door, trying to keep the squeeking of the rusty hinges to a minimum.</p>
<p>The night was cool and bright as the moon shined over the mountains and through the trees, and Carden shivered in his thin nightshirt. He walked quickly through the grass, his bare feet crunching on leaves and scattered straw. He tried to be as fast but as quiet as possible. He reached the piles of rocks that were littered along the path to it. He climbed on top of them and crawled over them, clinging on to the mossy stones with as much might as his small fists could muster.</p>
<p>Finally, he reached the door nestled onto the side of the hill. He had dared to get closer to it than he ever had before. There was little space between the large rocks and the door, but he managed to squeeze down so that his feet reached the grassy floor, and the door was only two inches from his nose. The old would smelled like mold and rotting. This close, he could see the veins in the leaves on the vines that tangled around the wood and the bronze pieces that edged the door so that it shined like the door was bejeweled. The knob, he could see now, was small and bronze, but covered in the roots and vines that tangled around the door. The way it was now made Carden wonder how it had ever been opened before. It seemed as though the plants and the mountain itself was trying its best to keep the door glued shut. He put his hand over the knob. It was strangely warm, and the vines that entangled it seemed to break away at the single touch. Carden pulled his hand back to look and saw that the vines had not fallen off but had completely disintegrated, looking like nothing but shriveled and burnt leaves in his palm. He shook them off and watched as they fell to the ground, vanishing completely within seconds. He put his hand back on the knob.</p>
<p>After a long breath, he turned the knob and pushed. The door opened surprisingly easily, the vines and roots all falling and withering away in seconds, and soon Carden was peering into a dark and endless space. He leaned in, trying to let his eyes adjust to see something or anything, but it was just darkness enveloped in darkness. After another quick breath, he took a step forward. And then another. As he continued walking into the mountain, the darkness continued to surround him, and he began to rub his eyes, hoping they would allowed him to see something.</p>
<p>Suddenly, there was a slam, and Carden screamed. A single fire burst up in the middle of the room, followed by torches the lit up, circling the room.</p>
<p>Carden looked quickly around him and noticed that the door was shut. He ran to it and called out. “Help!” He banged his fist on it, but quickly receded his hand in pain, as the inside of the door, he realized, was just hard stone. He turned to look at the room. He was in a circular room, the large fire in the center, and that’s when he saw the writing on the floor.</p>
<p>It was ancient writing, and it had a lot of words that Carden didn’t know. But there were a few that he did know, but did not like: “War” “Cherish” “Curse” and “Death.”</p>
<p>He tried to focus and slow his breathing, but he could feel his heart racing in his chest and didn’t know how to stop it. Soon, he could hear what sounded like knocking against all the walls. It was scary, like someone was mocking Carden’s attempts to yell for help. The knocking began to get louder and louder, going from a knock to a bang. Soon it was so loud that Carden had to cover his ears. He knelt on the ground next to the door, screaming and holding his head. For a second, the banging stopped. Carden looked up at the fire for only a second before it exploded into brilliant blue flames.</p>
<p>Carden felt himself flying through the air, he felt cold and suddenly hit something with a loud thud. The breath knocked out of him, he gave a desperate wheeze. He felt the ground below him and realized it was grass. He shivered as he lay on the dewy ground and opened his eyes. He could see the moon shining down on him through the gray train smoke that had started to rise from below. He slowly sat up.</p>
<p>What was once boulders in front of the door were now stones scattered around him. The door was wide open, but behind was nothing but grassy mountain framed by the doors rusted metal frame.</p>
<p>“Carden!” He heard from behind him. He turned and saw his father running toward him. Carden suddenly realized that his face was wet with tears and stood to run to him. He bent down to pick Carden up.</p>
<p>“Carden! What’s going on? What happ-”</p>
<p>His father’s voice was suddenly caught off when their hands reached each other. Carden watched his father as suddenly the pupils in his eyes faded away and his skin turned colorless. His father dropped to ground with a loud thud. The sky began to orange as the sun came up over the horizon. Carden watched his father as he lay in the damp morning grass, silent and unmoving.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In the Hands of Evil and Dangerous People</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After that fateful day, thinking a lot about the things his mother had told him and ignoring his grandparents wishes, Carden spent a lot of time researching magic and the history of The Island.</p>
<p>The Island was once a small world full of ancient traditions. At the very beginnings of its times, The Island was only two main lands, The East and The West.</p>
<p>These two main lands were separated from each other by a large mountain range that ran down the center of The Island nearly exactly. As time passed, each people wanted to explore more of the land that they lived on, and people began to try climbing the mountain range to cross to the other side. Eventually, trading towns began to pop up along the mountain range as people began to settle there to make trades and money off of the travelers going to and from other side. This created a new culture in these places along the mountain, and eventually it become a new land with a new government. This new country became known as The Border. Borderers were mostly adventurous and money-focused people, exploring the mountains for gold, coal, and oil, and soon mining and trading towns began to pop up everywhere there. It is also here that the traditions and religions of both the East and West begin to combine into a belief in a much larger pantheon, though the actual worship and practices of this pantheon varied from town to town.</p>
<p>Grandpa Coghar had never really talked to Carden about religion, but his father had explained to him a few times before he died that Carden's mother practiced the Eastern religion, which is why she was always so focused on the sun and the land and the air. The Eastern religion had the mothers of these elements which they worshipped through prayer and with altars which they decorated with stones and flowers. Carden's mother's altar was covered by an old cloth in the kitchen. When Carden finally had the strength to check under it, he found some sprigs of dried lavender, some half-melted candles, and many pink and white quartz crystals. He took one of the crystals and kept it in his desk drawer.</p>
<p>The Easterners were always a proud people, according to the histories. They lived in the forests and on the flatlands that scattered the eastern part of The Island. They hunted deer and the other small animals there. Eventually, many grew large farms where they grew crops and raised hawks and wolves to help them hunt.</p>
<p>According to most legends, the practice of magic and the appearance of the Cherish came about from their worship of the sun and the land and the plants. From this worship came the practice of healing, and healing eventually turned into their songs which were chants that, when performed under certain rituals, were said to have allowed great feats to occur. The practice of these magics eventually turned into the practice of looking into people's hearts and inner thoughts mind reading and foresight.</p>
<p>Those in the West were a quieter but highly intelligent people that focused much on living alongside the rivers, marshes, and swamps that inhabited the western side of The Island. Here, they worshiped Gods of the sea and river and the God of the moon. With this belief in the Gods of the waters giving life to the land, they also believed that the movement of the rivers meant that they eventually were lead to another world outside of the Island, and so worship of the dead and of ancestors was extremely important to the Westerners. It is by these worships and practices that the Western practice of speaking with the dead. These mediums eventually came to be known as the Nameless in the West, and as the practice of magic came continued, the Nameless started to create their own songs, however, it is not until the earliest reports of the Curse wars that the practice of curses by the Nameless start to come about.</p>
<p>The religion of the West and the religion of the East, as Carden learned from Grandma Cilva, came together in the Border's religion as a collection of those elements of worship from each side. The way of practicing the worship differed from town to town, but throughout the years it basically dissolved to prayer and the seasonal festivals. But the practice of this new religion was not accepted by every group on The Island.</p>
<p>You see, with the new creation of the Border, as well as the attempts of the Nameless to create their own magic songs, some people in the East began to fear the loss of their people and their traditions. This fear turned into hatred of The Border and The West. Eventually, The East set war onto these lands. The Borderers, being for many years a people of peace and being a country too new and too small to have any fighting power, was easily overtaken, and so began the siege onto The West. The Easterners, with their healing abilities and predictions of the future where almost unmatched in these wars. And it is here that The Island's history begins to see curses for the first time, giving the Curse Wars it's evil name.</p>
<p>The Nameless learned how to create curses by studying the healing spells of the Cherish. Curses were perhaps the worst thing to come out of the war. They were spells that could do small things like create a small pain in a person’s arm, or even greater things like make a person unable to lie or unable to speak at all. Curses could be placed onto a person directly by a Nameless, but one of the inventions to come out of the war was the creation of Cursed lands, which were areas that the Nameless could curse and thereby place curses on any person that walked on the land. Though, as the war finally came to an end, and the world had moved on across The Island, many people began to wonder if the curses were even real, or if they were just a rumor or a myth invented by the Westerners to make the Easterners fear them and to keep intruders away from Western territory.</p>
<p>Once the war was ended by a Peace Treaty known as the Four Worlds, The Island had already been divided into new territories.</p>
<p>The colonies of the Easterners in the Border and the West became a new land separate from the East, given its own independence and government by the Four Worlds. This new country became known as The Eastwest, and as time went on, The Eastwest prided itself on it mix of cultures and people, as, despite its history, became known as a place where Borderers, Westerners and Easterners could live together harmoniously. And it’s capital, New Alto, became one of the biggest and most industrial cities on The Island.</p>
<p>The Northern part of The Border, and what was left of it, eventually became known as The Peaks, as these people lived in some of the highest altitudes on The Island.</p>
<p>The West had a queen that ruled by divine rule in its capital, Levell. The Westerners were also people intent on creating close knit communities, and so each city or even small town in the West really had its own government and leaders, although like in all other countries, the monarchy had the final say within the West itself.</p>
<p>Carden had tried to read more about the specifics of the Western and Eastwestern governments, but they ultimately did not tell him anything he was that interested in knowing.</p>
<p>Nowadays, he guessed, The West, The Eastwest, and The Peaks all generally lived harmoniously, allowing for easy travel between the countries. The East, however, was a different story.</p>
<p>A resulting factor of the Four Worlds was the provision that The East still feared the loss of their traditions, and that the travel and the industrial new inventions would ruin the purity of the land in their country. So, while they would trade with these countries for goods, this was all done under strict security at their protective border. The East eventually built a wall at their border, with the exception being a large area outside of the Eastern wall known as the Eastern Plantations or simply the Plantations, where rich Easterners control large portions of farmland which grows food for both being brought into the Eastern cities, as well as for trading with the other countries. The Plantations were The East's way of keeping peace with other countries while still blocking off outside access to the main parts of the country and staying so secretive with its very inner working. The East, in turn, became quite a mysterious and secretive country to the rest of The Island. So, they continue to live on edge with the other countries, and those who “look Eastern” tend to be as well.</p>
<p>Although, each country on The Island generally had suspicions on the others, except for the Eastwest, which generally had trouble controlling its own population to the point that worrying about the countries surrounding them was a waste of time.</p>
<p>In any sense, the end of the Curse Wars brought about the creation of the Four Worlds, a peace treaty as well as an organization that would act as the main government on The Island.</p>
<p>The Four World's headquarters is in New Alto, but it virtually inaccessible to anyone who is not registered as government official. There are many different types of government officials, and there are two ways to become one. The first way is to be elected by a city or country as an official, and the other way is to be chosen by another officially to either join or take someone's place. Even if you are chosen as an assistant to work in the Four Worlds, you are still technically considered a government official.</p>
<p>However, outside of the Four Worlds, each country has its own monarchy each with its own chosen parliament that rules over the country in itself. The Four Worlds is higher than these monarchies as universal rulers of the entire island. If laws created by a monarch contrast with laws created by the Four Worlds, the laws of the monarch are overruled.</p>
<p>The highest position of power one can have within the Four Worlds is the prime chief of one of the four countries on the island. The prime chief is an elected official who works within the Four Worlds to create, discuss, and enforce universal law within the Island itself.</p>
<p>But, the Four World's is much more than the prime chiefs creating and enforcing laws. There are different branches of the Four Worlds that focus on different aspects of the Island's needs. For example, there is The Island Treasure Institution that focuses on the economy of the Island as a whole. Most of the Island, especially in the smaller towns and communities, rely on trade and barter to get the things they need, but gold and silver are still used as a main source of currency.</p>
<p>Another one of these branches is The Island Health Review, which studies and collects information on the medicine and illnesses on the Island.</p>
<p>There is also The Island Department of Education, which focuses mainly on making sure that children know how to read and do basic math, and make sure that class in colleges and universities are teaching things that are "allowed," which makes most history and cultural professors feel very watched, as teaching of magic and the Curse Wars is very heavily censored in order to keep young adults from becoming interested in learning it, although that doesn't mean that learning about it doesn't happen.</p>
<p>In order to get chosen for a position in one of these branches, they have to be chosen by one the presidents of the branches, those of which are voted on by the prime chiefs and their cabinet members. It is standard for there to be only one president of a branch, but also coordinators of those branches which are chosen by individuals from each country to represent the heads of those countries themselves within those branches. This way, it is meant to make sure that each country has a say in what happens within the Four Worlds and within these branches of the Four Worlds.</p>
<p>Carden, while he had spent much time researching the government and history of Island, eventually was gifted a book from his Grandfather after he died. This book contained much of the information that he was actually searching for information on the banishment of magic.</p>
<p>An important aspect of the Four Worlds Peace Treaty was its mention of the banishing of the practicing of magic. As the leaders of The Peaks, and The Eastwest began to have more influence on much of the Island’s population, the idea that magic was not necessary for everyday life became more prominent, and as proven through the devastation of war, magic was, perhaps, a force to powerful to mankind to properly handle. And so, the leaders of the Four Worlds agreed to the banishing of the practice of magic. While groups of Cherish and Nameless were said to have gone into hiding to practice secretly, as decades passed, it was believed that this practice eventually died out. However, while the names Cherish and Nameless were no longer used, in a few towns existed the black markets, where foreseeing and mediumship was practiced for people who wanted to learn their fortunes, or hear final words from lost loved ones.</p>
<p>Although it’s a dangerous job to be the magic industry now, it’s good money to the people whose families are still trying to hold on to a lost and forgotten art.</p>
<p>The book where Carden found this information was over a decade old, so he spent much time wondering if the things he read in it were still true in the year 3070. Living in Tottenheim often meant that Island News, by the time it reached his ears, was about a week old. Throughout the next eight years, Grandma Cilva would convince Carden that there was still hope. That these magicians did still exist, and that his curse could be lifted. Unfortunately, Grandma Cilva would die in Atrill of 3078, only two months prior to the day that Carden's life would change.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a sad morning for Carden. His next round of kids was ready for slaughter. The nannies were pregnant again except for the eldest, who was probably going to go anyway. She was going to pass on someday soon, but not today. But still, it was only her and two others out of the ten goats that Carden still had. The farm had usually had between twenty and twenty-four goats, but the amount had slowly winded down since ‘Pa had died. He opened the door to the barn and let the animals out to graze. He didn’t bother wearing his scarf or hood when with the goats, but he almost always wore his grandfather’s large brown coat and his black goatskin gloves. Even in the late summer heat. He found the two kids and grunted as he picked each one up in each arm and took them to his workshop. He closed the door behind him. He didn’t want the other goats seeing what was going to happen. The goats walked around the workshop curiously, tried to climb onto the workbench and check out some of the big tools. Carden removed his gloves and set them on a stool, reaching over for the kids. As soon as his hands reached to pet their backs, each goat fell dead to the floor, white-eyed and motionless. Carden palmed the crystal in his pocket and gave a small prayer to the gods of the sun and moon and of land and water before picking them up and getting to work.</p>
<p>He wiped the blood off his hands onto his apron. He took the last of the paper-wrapped and salted meat and put it in his carrying pack. The meat of goat was best when it was still a kid, still soft and not as fatty. He took the sack and set it down in the cellar to keep cool until the next morning. He would take it to trade tomorrow along with some of the pelts he had kept from a few weeks ago. He folded up the pelt that he kept in the corner and placed them carefully into a smaller bag. He would leave one for Mrs. Dollery, even though he couldn’t really afford it. He walked back out of the cellar and removed his apron, hanging it over the door to keep it off the floor that was now soaked in blood. He had tried cleaning it before, but it always ended up getting stained with red again and again, the place constantly smelled like death, so at some point he just settled for tossing a bucket of water on the floor to send it out the door and into the grass outside.</p>
<p>Of course, while most people around here used the goats for their milk and to make cheese, Carden had to come up with a new plan since milking goats was not exactly the easiest thing for him. Raising them himself had been difficult enough since Grandma Cilva died.</p>
<p>Carden sighed, heading out of the small workroom into the sunset’s light and began to walk the path back up to the house. Out it in the grass field, he went to the back corner to double check the newly drying goat hides he had placed there to dry. They were covered in salt, and still a little too wet, but Carden was worried about leaving outside overnight where they might get rained on or taken by some hungry animal. The skin and the pelts are what got Carden his best trades, but he didn’t really have a lot to go around. Especially now. He took the four pelts and headed up the hill as the sky was starting to darken.</p>
<p>He could see from the field a small space hidden in the forest, under a large pine tree where four small grave stones lined up side by side, each one slightly lighter and newer than the last. There was a plethora of Middleton graves out in that forest, Carden knew, but his eyes were always drawn to those four. The final of which he had placed himself.</p>
<p>Though, it wasn't too difficult living by himself nowadays. Even when he was being taken care of by his Grandparents, they kept him sheltered from the world. Carden did not speak or read or do much of anything the few years after his father's death, and trying to keep the truth from the small town gossipers was difficult enough as it was. Dr. Greyfather was suspicious enough by the death that he had suggested to a few of the towns leaders and their wives that it was a good idea to call for royal guards or councilmen. Carden wasn't sure how, but, luckily, Grandpa Coghar managed to convince him and the others that calling from the capital was not at all necessary.</p>
<p>It was a little less than half a day’s walk to Redwick Grove, which is why Carden Middleton did a lot of his trading there. Most people in Tottenheim just sold their meats and cheeses to the trading posts and inns, which Carden did most weeks, but he liked being able to leave the small town for a short while, and they had better stuff here. Redwick Grove was another train town, slightly closer than Snowbush but smaller and full of older, grouchier people. Snowbush was where the crossing line was, the train tracks that left The Peaks and traveled all the way over the borders into other countries. Redwick was just part of an inner line, trains that traveled to and from the bigger city in the Peaks. Which wasn’t many.</p>
<p>Carden had read the maps of the train lines and found that the line that ran through Redwick started in Hiltop, The Peak’s capital and ended in Yunder, the southernmost city in the small country.</p>
<p>The best part about Redwick Grove, though, was that it had a bookstore.</p>
<p>Bookstore tended to be commodities left only for capitals and other large cities, but this one was run by a sweet and elderly woman whose dead husband supposedly had come from a line of old money from one of the East’s plantation towns in The Meadows. An old widow with no children and lots money liked to keep herself fairly well-hidden from the masses, so a library in some middle of nowhere mountain town seemed to do the trick. Though, of course, it was only rumors.</p>
<p>Carden stood in front of the old building. It was small. The roof was nearly caved in from the rain that was battering the top of it. A wooden sign hung above the door reading “Lydia’s Bookstore.” Though, calling it a bookstore was a bit of a misnomer, considering Mrs. Walden rarely ever charged people for anything other than her bookmarks she always made at her desk. The people of Redwick Grove took care of her, and she was kind to offer her books to people who wanted to borrow them.</p>
<p>The inside was a mess of old books and papers from top to bottom. Shelves covered every wall corner to corner, and the middle was two large tables, each with its own rickety wooden chair, and each piled high with books. There was one small room towards the back Mrs. Walden used as a seating area, though it was mostly just an old sofa, a mostly broken record player, and a window. Mrs. Walden sat at her small desk that was right at the entrance, crocheting a pink and yellow bookmark and humming to the old record that Carden could hear playing from the back room.</p>
<p>“Mr. Middleton, good to see you again, boy.”</p>
<p>“Hi Mrs. Walden. I brought you some leather and my tools,” said Carden, “in case you had any new books that needed binding.”</p>
<p>“Ah, such a sweet boy.” She smiled. The wrinkles in her face magnified. Her eyes I just got my hands on some old books brought in from some Western traders.” She grabbed a stack of books sitting on the floor and brought them up to him. They were all tattered and worn, probably older than The Peaks itself.  “Most of them are okay, but these three,” she pulled some of the books on top that whose pages were barely being held together, “need some help.”</p>
<p>Carden nodded and took the books. He squeezed passed her desk and sat at one of the large tables, setting his bag on the floor and pushing books around to create a workspace for himself.</p>
<p>Mrs. Walden stood. It was beginning to darken outside.</p>
<p>“You know the rules. Door will be locked. When you’re finished, read what you want. Take what you need. The sofa is in the back.” She paused to look at him. The keys in her hand jingled when she stopped. “Promise me that you’ll sleep some this time.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Walden, with all due respect, I am twenty-four years old. I’m not a child anymore.”</p>
<p>Lydia Walden smiled. “Goodnight, Carden.”</p>
<p>It was a quiet night. The stars and the half-moon were almost impossible to see through the dark clouds and the smog, and by the time Carden finished the new binding on the last book, it had finally stopped raining. The shop was dark except for a single lamp. Carden, safely alone, had removed his hood and leather gloves. Lastly, he removed the long cotton scarf he kept wrapped around his neck and the bottom half of his face.</p>
<p> At one point, he heard a fly buzzing around him and he stilled. He could see it. It swirled around in front of him, taunting him. But it got too close. It bumped into Carden’s nose a fell onto the table in front of him.</p>
<p>“Sorry, little guy.”</p>
<p>The books that he had added the binding to were small. Two seemed to be children’s novels. <em>The Littlest Princess </em>and <em>Clover</em>, a book apparently about a small, yellow dog. The third book appeared to be some kind of poetry book. The first few pages were almost completely faded, but the title was <em>Spells as Poetry: A Look at Eastern Songs</em>.</p>
<p>Carden had read about Eastern songs and their origins in magic, but he had never actually heard any of them. Or read them, for that matter. The old Western and Eastern languages were basically dead, though he knew that some translations existed from after the war through research and word of mouth. He decided to take a closer look.</p>
<p>The first couple of chapters were boring. The Cherish, unsurprisingly, had a lot of spells about the light and the land. Mostly about grass and the sun. There was also a chapter on spells and songs that were meant simply as rituals for worshipping the sun and air and the animals.</p>
<p>There were spells for fire and ones for marrying couples and ones for pregnant women. It was all very different than anything Carden could find on the Cherish. The book made the Cherish and their magic seem almost normal, as if it were simple a part of Eastern culture and everyday life. As if it hadn’t been banished or as though the Eastern wall wasn’t even a thought yet. But then he came to section that made Carden’s hair stand on end.</p>
<p>“Curses:</p>
<p>"Long before the Curse Wars, some Cherish spell books told stories of a place they called ‘a’ Flourwed’ Translated literally as ‘The Garden.’ Little is known if this place actually exists, the few books that mention the garden explain that only the Cherish were ever allowed to know of its whereabouts. (Though in some translations, scholars believe it actually means only a Cherish can <em>create </em>it and argue that The Garden is simply a term to reference a headspace in which to practice healing and forseeing.)</p>
<p>"One of the best pieces of evidence for the authenticity of The Garden is, actually in a piece of Western literature. The <em>Written</em>, one of the few Nameless based literatures left after the Curse Wars includes a poem by an unknown author that talks of a place in the East full of colorful flowers and healing waters:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I came Eastward in search of knowledge and love</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And found that I was feared by those who worshipped the rive.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And so, I promised to show proof and make amends </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>to a people who believed me a hexer of men.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was all so calming as I pet the yellow lilies</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And the silver sheep and the golden trees</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And the Loved, he said to me, you are not what I thought.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And I concurred the same. Together</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>In clasped hands we created light </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>surrounded by golden trees and a man once alone</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Was able to love again. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>"Analyses of the text have ranged from the poem being a simple love song to being a historical account of a Nameless woman. While some think that the simple point of the poem is to create insight on the idea of peace between the Nameless and the Cherish, others believe it in itself is a spell that can rid a person of a Nameless’s curse. The similarity in this poem though, to a Cherish song is undeniable, leading many people to believe that at one time, it was believed that the magic of the Nameless and the magic of the Cherish in fact came from the same “source” of magic. This “source” is a concept in ancient Western and Eastern literature, though both places describe the “source” quite differently."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carden’s head was spinning, but elated. He has spent four of his teenage years coming back and forth between Tottenheim and this shop. Had helped Mrs. Walden clean, rebind books, fixed and refixed the stupid record player. All looking for something that could lead him to an answer. And now, over six years later, he has finally found something. This section in the book was one small page long. But it was the closest thing Carden had come to a cure in his life. He turn to the front of the book to find an author, but it was so worn and faded that it was nearly impossible to make out.</p>
<p>“F    A.  Wa   n” was the most he could make out. He tried flipping through the book to see if an author’s name was mentioned anywhere else, but he found nothing. But he realized, suddenly, that he had a decision to make. </p>
<p>He spent the rest of the night researching maps of the East.</p>
<p>By the next morning, Carden woke to the sound of the shop door creaking open and small heels hitting the wooden floor. He peered up and blinked a few times. He had fallen asleep at the table, sitting in the old chair with his head slumped into a geography book.</p>
<p>“Have a good night?” asked Mrs. Walden.</p>
<p>Carden groaned but smiled. He yawned and stretched his arms up. His curly black hair now dangled in front of his eyes.</p>
<p>“You know, I rarely ever get to see your face.” Mrs. Walden said, reaching out to move his hair back.</p>
<p>In an instance, Carden realized what was happening and yelled out. “Please, Mrs. Walden! Don’t!” He backed up away from her hand, moving fast until he ran into the bookshelves behind him. Books that were balancing on the top of fell off, nearly hitting him and landing on the floor.</p>
<p>Mrs. Walden just looked at him and sighed. “I know, I know. You don’t like to be touched. I just thought it would be okay. Figured you would have grown out of your germaphobia by now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have germaphobia, Mrs. Walden.”</p>
<p>“Whatever reason you have, if it’s this serious I hope you are getting help.” She quickly turned and walked to the front and sat in her chair.</p>
<p>Carden went back to his table and picked up <em>Spells as Poetry</em>. “I’ll try. I just hope I can find it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The following morning, Carden was now back on his farm in Tottenheim and as the sun began to come over the horizon, he grabbed his savings and what few other items he felt he could not live without and walked out the door. He walked, first, toward the forest behind the barn.</p>
<p>Carden kneeled on the ground in front of the gravestones. The pine needles on the ground dug into his knees and he wasn’t sure of what to do. It had been a long and cold winter’s the night Grandma Cilva died. She laid in bed, shivering despite being layered in every sweater and blanket in the house that Carden could find. He sat next to her, trying to spoon-feed her the last of the medicine that the doctor had gave them on his last visit.</p>
<p>“Don’t give me that crap. It tastes like dirt and salt”</p>
<p>“Please, Grandma. You promised me you’d try.”</p>
<p>“It’s been over three months, Carden, you can’t take care of me forever.”</p>
<p>“But you promised!”</p>
<p> “Carden, look at me.”</p>
<p> Carden looked up, defeated, with a tearful face.</p>
<p>“You have been so loved by your ‘Ma and your ‘Pa. And your mom and dad too. We may not be so good at showing it, but we do. We have.”</p>
<p>Carden put his face back into his hands at the mention of his parents. Of his father.</p>
<p>“I’m an old woman. And you’re so young. You need people who aren’t sick old ladies, okay? It’s time for you to make me a promise.”</p>
<p>She began to speak more softly, so Carden moved closer to hear her whispers.</p>
<p>“Promise me you won’t stay here forever. You may not know it, but you have a free spirit. Your mother knew that, too. You need to find somewhere new and exciting to be. You need to find the biggest library and read all the books and go see all the cities. I know how much that would mean to you.”</p>
<p>“But it’s not safe for me to be out there.”</p>
<p>Grandma Silva ignored Carden and continued. “Promise me that when I’m gone, you won’t let yourself be alone. You deserve so much more. Please, promise me that you will let yourself be happy.”</p>
<p>Carden was barely listening to a word. As Grandma Cilva spoke, her words grew farther and farther apart, and became more and more quiet. Eventually, she took a long breath out and closed her eyes. And it finally stopped snowing outside.</p>
<p>“Goodbye.” Carden said, standing up and pulling his small bag over his shoulder. He walked out of the woods towards the barn, where he opened the door. The last set of billes and nannies trotted out of the barn and into the field. Carden was sure they would be fine. Mr. Jennings about a mile down the road usually came by to check in on him, and he’d left a note on the front porch. It simply read. “Went out. Not sure when I’ll be back. –Carden M.”</p>
<p>He settled his bag on his back, held the copy of Spell as Poems in his hands, and set off down the road to head toward Snowbush, and the Snowbush station to get on the crossing line.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Man in Solitude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snowbush station was not what Carden thought it would be. It was small. Smaller than the Redwick station, even, but dirtier. And much more crowded. Although, Snowbush always seemed to be crowded. Especially during the summer months, which, unfortunately, was something that Carden had not thought about. Carden was not the biggest fan of crowds. He pulled his scarf high over his nose and brought his hood down so that only his eyes would show, and made sure that his sleeves were pulled down over his gloves. It was a warm day for The Peaks, so he was sweating a lot underneath his layers. He received many odd looks from the people wearing short sleeves and thin hats, but he didn’t mind.</p>
<p>            “Where are you headed today, sir?” said the man behind the ticket counter. It was something Carden had been thinking of, but still did not really have an answer to. He thought he would have made up his mind by the time he reached the front of the line, but he still had not decided. He figured that the author of the book must live somewhere in the East, but trying to get into Eastern territory with no plan and an old book was probably not going to get him very far. He could go to The Meadows, but then what? Hope that some other nice, rich old lady would take him in and help him? Not likely. Heading West to one of those big cities might be useful, but heading that far out right now when he was not even sure of what he was doing might not be a good idea either. New Alto, the capital of The Eastwest, was probably his best option. It was the biggest city on The Island, and had a library called New Alto’s Great Biblios, which was supposedly also the biggest library on The Island. Though after that, what would he do? He had his life savings of gold and silver pieces with him as well as a few pieces of his mother’s and grandmother’s nicest jewelry, but that wasn’t very much to begin with, and the train ride itself was going to be pricey.</p>
<p>            “How much for a one way to New Alto?”</p>
<p>            “Ha, I’ve heard that one before,” the ticket man laughed. “Three gold or five silver.”</p>
<p>            Carden, with some reluctance, handed the man the coins and got his red paper ticket.</p>
<p>            “It’s going to be at fifteen minutes passed noon on the red line. You’ll board on platform three. If you get lost, just follow the smell of drugs and desperation.” The ticket man smirked.</p>
<p>            Carden walked away confused. Drugs and desperation? Wasn’t New Alto the capital of the Eastwest and the most important city on The Island? New Alto was the center of the Industrial Revolution and had enormous buildings and art and a library that could have only otherwise exist in Carden’s dreams.</p>
<p>            He walked down some steps into the next section, looking for platform three. He thought for sure the trains on the red line would be at the southern part of the station. He thought about asking someone for help. He pulled himself out of the traffic of people to stand by a bench and looked around for someone who might give him directions. He reached out a few times to try to get someone to listen to him, but most people just kept walking faster. Some people gave him a dirty look and kept on their way. Soon, he just sat on the bench to calm down and think.</p>
<p>            He stared off into space for quite a long time before he noticed something on the wall on the other side of the traffic. There were flyers and posters hanging all over one of the walls. He was curious. Tottenheim had a similar wall with people posting for job opportunities or for lost animals or something, but why would something like this be in the middle of a train station.</p>
<p>When he finally managed to squeeze his way over there, he saw that there where faces all over it. That’s when he realized. Some of the posters were advertisements. More of them were missing persons posters. But most of them were wanted posters. They were drawn angry faces, people whose faces were covered in tattoos and scars. Most were men. Any that were women looked very old, but with cold, sour looks unlike any that Carden had seen. Most simply said wanted for “multiple crimes against The Island,” though some said things like grand theft, fraud, and even murder. But one stood out to Carden. It was one of the newer posters on the wall, not covered by any of the others, the parchment still fairly fresh, and not as torn or faded. It showed a young man with a long, pale face. He had long blonde hair and earrings. But what interested him about the posted was what he read underneath it. “Sun Falser: Wanted Dead or Alive for the crime of FORESEEING and the Practice of MAGIC, Extremely dangerous, Reward: 200 gold.” Carden looked at the name. He opened <em>Spells as Poetry</em> and turned for a few chapters. He tore down the poster, folded it up and put it in the book before turning and looking at the clock above. It was nearly noon. Time to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holan Lutherop always woke up tired. Or maybe he was always hungover. He didn't drink a lot at a single time, but he did drink often. But this morning, he woke up somewhere that was not his dirty, crumbling apartment in the Under Streets. He was in a small bed in a pastel yellow room, a bright orange blanket on top of him, and man with dark hair and smudged lipstick next to him.</p>
<p>            So, yeah, he was probably hungover. Last night's festivities came back around to him and he realized that he was also probably on the complete other side of the city. And needed to be at Bertie's by noon for work. He slowly lifted his arm to his head to check his watch, praying it was only nine or ten. He looked at the clock on his wrist and waited for his eyes to focus. eleven thirty. Goddamn it. He slinked off the bed and crawled around for a while, looking for his clothes. When he finally found his pants and his shirt, he started putting them on quickly and, in trying to do so, fell backward against the wall. The bump woke up his bedmate, who soon was sitting up and looking at the stranger in his apartment. But after a second, he shrugged and turned to the window over the bed and opened it.</p>
<p>            Holan smiled, "Good morning. Sorry, but I do not remember your name, and I'm late for work." He saw his black scarf draped over a chair in the kitchenette area of the quaint apartment, picking it up and placing it around his shoulders.</p>
<p>            "Whatever, I don't remember much of anything either. Plus, I wouldn't offer you breakfast even if I had any food in my kitchen." The man leaned over to the nightstand, open the drawer and took out a carton of cigarettes and some matches. He lit one and leaned against the headboard.</p>
<p>            Holan rolled his eyes as he sat and the chair and pulled his tan shoes on. "Sure, you say that, but," Holan, finishing tying up his shoelaces, grabbed a pen on the nearby table and went over to the dark-haired man, grabbing his arm and writing on it. "Here is my address, if you ever want to do this again."</p>
<p>            The man looked at it and laughed. "Well, I could rob you, but knowing you live in the Under Streets, I bet there isn't anything worth taking."</p>
<p>            "And that's why I don't bother giving it out." Holan began walking toward the door, as he did so, lit the match and then the cigarette that he stole from the man when he distracted him the address. He put the rest of the match box in his pocket.</p>
<p>            "Hey," said the man, noticing, "when did you steal those?" He started to walk over to Holan, who had already made it to the door.</p>
<p>            "By the way," Holan said, "You have a little something right there." He pointed to the lipstick smeared on the man's mouth, shut the door, and took off down the outside street, which, judging by the quaint shops and food stands nearby, he must by on or close to Spears Street, which was far but not too far from Berties, and Holan began walking down the street, smoking his coffin nail and hoping he was headed south. He noticed he was getting more weird looks than normal passersby and suddenly realized something. He stopped and wiped his mouth. And looked at his hand which was now covered in sticky, red makeup. He laughed and kept walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In New Alto, Carden realized just how much he stood out. And why the ticket man had laughed at him back at the train station. New Alto was a pile of garbage. The air was not so thick as it could get in the Peaks, since they had a river they could use for hydropower, but still was not the cleanest air he could have imagined. Instead of smelling like smoke and coal, the air smelled putrid, like sulfur and ammonia. His scarf was no longer so weird, since it seemed that many people here wore some kind of mask around their mouths and noses. But still, Carden, with his leather jacket and gloves, his woolen hood, and blue eyes made him stand out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finally came upon the shop that the man at the tavern had told him about.</p>
<p>            “If it’s magic ya looking for,” he said with whisper. He seemed quite intoxicated, but Carden was just glad he found someone who would listen to him. “I’d go up sixth street and look for Bertie’s Bits and Bobs. Old, run- down looking thing. Ask for Happy, and tell em’ Old Arthur sent you. That ain’t me, but that’s a name I hear a lot when I was down there.”</p>
<p>            “I was told to ask for Happy?” said Carden.  </p>
<p>            “Oh? And who, might I ask, is asking?”</p>
<p>            "Arthur sent me.”</p>
<p>The old man that ran the little run-down shop in the corner of the city smiled. “I understand.” He stretched out his hand toward him. Carden was reluctant to already give away so much of the money he had saved, but not he did not have any real choice. He dropped a cloth bag into it. It made a metallic clank as he snatched it up quickly and quickly led Carden through a door behind the counter. The passed quite a few rooms and smoke seemed to engulf the whole place. Many of the rooms had names on the front of them, weird names like "Rising Grapeseed" or "Princess Lavender." Carden was led to another room which, on the front was written, "Sun Falser."  He walked inside and the man leading him quickly shut the door behind him and he was left alone.</p>
<p>            The room was a simple wooden table surrounded by two blue ornate but rusting metal chairs. There were no windows and a brown sludge seemed to seep out of the yellowing walls. As the woman went to sit down, Sun Falser walked in. Sun was not what Carden had expected.</p>
<p>            He was tall, almost too tall for the room’s low ceiling, and young. His face was pale a freckled with reddish cheeks. His hair was a yellow blonde that went down past his shoulders. He wore a simple black scarf around his neck that contrasted with his orange shirt, yellow pants, and tan and white shoes.</p>
<p>            Sun sat down across him. "What's with the hood and scarf? Hiding yourself from me will only make this process worse. Plus, I can already tell from those ugly-ass pants that you're a Borderer, and probably one of the three real Borderers in this city, so there's really no point.</p>
<p>            Carden paused a second and took off his brown scarf and hood. He placed them in his lap and waited, bring his hands to rest on the table. He caught Sun looking at his gloved hands. "The gloves stay on."</p>
<p>            Sun just stared for a second before grunting, "Whatever."</p>
<p>            Carden waited a few moments, wondering if he was supposed to say something before Sun finally spoke up.</p>
<p>            “So, why are you here?”</p>
<p>            Carden thought for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he should say.</p>
<p>            “I’ve made a pretty big change in my life the other day. I just wanted to see the outlook.”</p>
<p>            Sun, with his dark brown eyes, looked at Carden, and it made him uncomfortable, as though someone where trying to look for flaws.  </p>
<p>            “I can see pain. And loneness in you. Do you think you are a dangerous person?”</p>
<p>            “This isn't what I ask you for.”</p>
<p>            “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m having a more difficult time reading you. I’ve never really met someone with as good of control over their emotions that you do. I can tell there is something underneath, but I can't really feel anything. Let me see your hands, please.”</p>
<p>            “No, said Carden, pulling his hands closer to him, wringing them and looking down.</p>
<p>            Sun looked confused. “What’s the problem?”</p>
<p>            “I don’t really like people touching me.”</p>
<p>            “Well, how do you expect me to help you then?”</p>
<p>            “I know you should still be able to see something.”</p>
<p>“Well, what do you want me to see?” asked Sun.</p>
<p>            “I’m looking for something,” he said. “And I think it’s something that only a Cherish can find.”</p>
<p>Sun scrunched his face. “Don’t use that word. Not here, not anywhere, but especially not here.</p>
<p>            “Why not? It’s what you are, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>            “It’s dangerous and stupid. I practice foreseeing, but I’m not some magician’s assistant. Or some crazy person ranting about how the sun and the earth gave us the roots to life or something.”</p>
<p>            “You think it’s a religious term?”</p>
<p>            “I think it’s an outdated term from a time when everyone was religious because they didn’t know any better. Anyway, I'm asking the questions here, remember?"</p>
<p>            Carden thumbed the crystal in his pocket and remember when he first entered the store and was frightened of what he might find. But this kid was a brat. "Fine, then. Go on."</p>
<p>            "What exactly are you looking for?"</p>
<p>            "A place, an old place."</p>
<p>            Sun looked at Carden for a moment. "A very old and magical place, apparently?"</p>
<p>            "Yes."</p>
<p>            "And what is there that you want/"</p>
<p>            If Carden told Sun the truth, that he just wanted to break his curse, Sun would never agree to help him. He thought about the poem again. What would be there for someone like him?</p>
<p>"Treasure," he said.</p>
<p>            Sun rolled his eyes. "You expect me to believe that you are a treasure hunter?"</p>
<p>            "Maybe not, but expect you to believe me when I say I have every reason to believe that this place exists and every reason to believe that it is something worth finding. There is a poem I found, that talks about this place called the Garden. It's supposed to be an ancient magic place of healing, but it also talks about have reservoirs of gold and silver."</p>
<p>            Sun watched Carden, apparently trying to use his gift to tell if Carden was lying, and was having a difficult time determining. "You aren't telling a lie, but you aren't telling the whole truth either."</p>
<p>            "Well, I'm sure you have your own secrets."</p>
<p>Sun 's eyes narrowed. "You know what? We're done here. Get out."</p>
<p>            "No, wait, I'm sorry, listen."</p>
<p>            But it was too late, Sun stood and barged out of the room.</p>
<p>            Carden sat for second, trying to figure out what to do. He pulled his hood back up and tied his scarf back around his face. He left the decorated room and went back out to the dark hallway. He wasn't sure where to go, but he followed the direction that went further into the building. He passed door with a few more weird names before coming to the door at the very end of the hallway, the front of which read "Manager's Office." Carden was about to turn around and leave before he heard yelling coming from the office.</p>
<p>            "Get back there and get more money out of him!"</p>
<p>            "But, Bert, he won't work with me, he doesn't want answers¾"</p>
<p>            "I don't care what he does or does not want, I hire you to tell people what they want to hear, make them happy."</p>
<p>            "But."</p>
<p>            "This is the last straw, Falser, you show up late, looking like a woman, at that, costing me customers, just get out."</p>
<p>            "Wait, Bert, let's talk about this."</p>
<p>            "Out! Before I change my mind and set the bounty hunters on you!"</p>
<p>            Sun left the room, seeing Carden there.</p>
<p>            "Alright, how about we grab a drink and we can talk more about what you want."</p>
<p>They were in a small bar, and Carden took off his scarf, but kept his hood up. They sat in a small table, and Sun ordered two glass of something.</p>
<p>"My name is Holan," said the blonde man suddenly.</p>
<p>"Why are you telling me this?"</p>
<p>Holan shrugged, "You don't seem like the type to backstab anybody. Plus, I've always hated the name Sun. Fucking pseudonyms. Plus, it's your turn to spill secrets."</p>
<p>            "My name is Carden. And I'm looking for a place called the Garden."</p>
<p>            "Why?"</p>
<p>            "Do you really care?'</p>
<p>            "No, but if I'm going to agree to this, I want to know what is actually important to you."</p>
<p>            "If I agree to get you half of whatever we find there, will you agree to not ask questions?"</p>
<p>            "If you get half, and I get half, that sounds like a basic divide. I don't care that you found this poem thing if I end up having to do all the work."</p>
<p>            "You won't end up doing all the work. Plus, I'm not taking anything. I need another person to help, too. You get half, and he'll get the other half."</p>
<p>            "Okay, first of all, you not taking anything makes me even more suspicious, and number two, who is this other person."</p>
<p>            "I am looking for information, not profit. And I need a, um, medium, as well, according to the poem in order to find the place."</p>
<p>            Holan nodded, understanding, at least, to a degree.</p>
<p>            "Do we have a deal?" asked Carden.</p>
<p>            "Not yet. If this place turns out to not exist, what do I get in return?"</p>
<p>            "Please, I don't have much."</p>
<p>            "Well, what do you have?" Holan sat back a smirked, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. A waiter returned and placed two drinks in front of Holan.</p>
<p>            "I have a farm, up in the peaks. It's not much but my family was full of hoarders. Lots of old antiques and stuff, might be worth something."</p>
<p>            Holan blew out smoke and sighed. "Alright, but we're shaking on it." Holan held out his hand.</p>
<p>            Carden swallowed and carefully held out his gloved hand. Holan grabbed it and shook it.</p>
<p>            "We have a deal."</p>
<p>            Carden went to stand, but the pale man stopped him. "Hold on, hold on, relax a little. Here," he said, picking up one small glass full of amber liquid and setting it in front of Carden. "Let's have a quick drink."</p>
<p>            Carden was only a little skeptical. He had had drinks like this before, but not a lot, and not since his grandfather died. Holan poured about a quarters' worth into each glass and handed one to him. They both said nothing, but gulped them down at the same time. Carden coughed for a second at the sudden burning in his throat. Holan laughed, and for some reason, Carden did too.</p>
<p>            "By the way," said Holan, "Who is this other guy who is supposed to help us?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            "Oh, " said Carden, " I haven't found him, yet." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Girl Named Frail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Margaret, like most Thursdays, was sat in her booth at the Silversmith diner at the very edge of town. The waiters there knew of her and her mother, and after a few months of observing the business that went down at her booth, got used to bringing her two coffees and a slice of cheesepie. She always paid with more than it was worth and  let them keep the rest..</p><p>      Margaret was glad that they had an understanding, but often wondered if they feared her or just thought she was a funny little girl that got a kick out of taking money from the forty to fifty-year-old depressed widows that traveled the one or two hours from a town over. Maybe they didn't even notice what it was she was doing. People could always be so caught up in their own little worlds that they sometimes couldn't even notice what was happening in the same room as them.</p><p>            Margaret heard the voice of a man clearing his throat. She looked up from her book.</p><p>            "Ms. Juliet?" said the man.</p><p>            Margaret nodded, putting her book on the seat next to her and scooting her empty cheesepie plate with the lipstick stained fork to the edge of the table.</p><p>            The man sat down across from her. He took off his baseball cap and smoothed back the four long white hairs left on his head.</p><p>            "It's nice to meet you Mr. Nelson," said Margaret, "But, I must remind you that I take half payment up front."</p><p>            Mr. Nelson nodded and pulled out a bag of coins. He slid it across the table.</p><p>            "I may look young, but trust me, I'm the real deal," she said, picking up the money and counting it. "People don't always like what they hear."</p><p>            "I just need to know, you know, that she's really in a better place. Or if she has any grudges against me."</p><p>            Nelson had told Margaret that his wife had died of a very sudden heart attack about an hour after they had a big fight. He felt guilty that their last words to each other were so hateful.</p><p>            Margaret pulled off her black lace gloves and placed them on the table beside her. She held out her hands.</p><p>            Nelson gawked at her a second before slowly taking them.</p><p>            Margaret closed her eyes and waited a few seconds before opening them. The world suddenly began to grow a sepia- colored film as she looked around. So far, so good. She looked at Mr. Nelson and searched for color. A pink and red haze began to build itself around him.</p><p>            "Did your wife wear a lot of pink or red?"</p><p>            "Pink was her favorite color."</p><p>            Margaret kept staring at the blob, her eyes watered as she tried hard not to blink.</p><p>            "She has short, reddish hair? And dark brown eyes?"</p><p>            Nelson nodded.</p><p>            "She does seem fine."</p><p>            "Just fine?"</p><p>            "I mean, she just died about a month ago. She's getting used to being dead."</p><p>            Margaret waited a few minutes. "She is having trouble communicating with me since she did die so recently, but I can tell that she trusts you and is looking out for you."</p><p>            He smiled at that. Thank God.</p><p>            Margaret smiled. "She says she loves you, but she doesn't regret what she said to you in the kitchen."</p><p>            Nelson stopped smiling, but Margaret didn't notice.</p><p>            Margaret laughed. "Guess now he'll have to do his own dishes, huh?"</p><p>            "What?"</p><p>            "Yeah, men, huh? I bet the house is a mess. But I mean, he does miss you. Don't you have anything nice to say?"</p><p>            "What is she saying?"</p><p>            Margaret waited a few seconds. She was completely focused on the wall behind him. "She loves you, and she's sorry that she left you so suddenly, but figures that she won't have to wait long before you get to see her again."</p><p>            "What?" Nelson pushed Margaret's hands away from him. She blinked rapidly as she came out of her trance. Tears fell down her face.</p><p>            "Hey, she said, rubbing her eyes, I'm just giving to you straight, alright? They don't become gods or anything after they die. .."</p><p>            "What?"</p><p>            Margaret sighed. "Look, the dead don't really talk with words, but with like general pictures and feelings. I just say what the feeling are the best way I can interpret them okay? The dead are like people, they don't always know the best thing to say."</p><p>            "You said that she didn't forgive me."</p><p>            "Well, I mean, yeah, she died being mad at you. But that doesn't mean she doesn't still love you."</p><p>            "This is bullshit."</p><p>            "What's bullshit? That your wife didn't suddenly become the god of good graces in the afterlife? Well heads up, people are just people, even after death."</p><p>            "No," Nelson said, standing up. "This is just too creepy." He rushed out of the café, bumping the table and spilling his coffee as he ran.</p><p>            "And that's why I take payment beforehand." Margaret slouched down as she watched him leave. She sighed before grabbing her book and stuffing it in her large, purple shoulder bag.</p><p> </p><p>Twenty-four hours later, after Holan dragged Carden up to his graying and crumbling apartment to pack up his stuff and they treaded their way through the heavy air of New Alto, they ended up at the Eastwest crossing-line station. It had started to become colder outside, as the summer was beginning to turn into fall. Holan kept himself wrapped in his yellow overcoat and his black scarf.</p><p>            Carden was vaguely aware of how strange they looked walking around together. Carden, with his light colored eyes peaking out of his black hood and dark scarf was nearly the opposite of Holan, who had probably the darkest eyes Carden has seen outside of the Peaks, along with very pale skin and very pale hair. Not even yellow, but nearly white. He looked very Eastern, indeed, minus his dark eyes and tall stature. Even his very angular face with long chin and high cheekbones made him look like a prince from one of the Eastern fairy tales Carden's mother would read to him as a kid.</p><p>            His brightly colored clothing said otherwise, though, which is why his deep black scarf stood out so much. Wearing dark colors like black and navy and purple was once very common in Eastern history, and still is very much so in many of the Eastern planation villages where old money still roams. It stood out as a symbol to Carden. One that tricked people into thinking that Holan came from money and power, people noticed him and tried not to notice him. Making the whole thing about having a wanted poster with his name on it so interesting. Holan didn't look like a magic user. He looked like a snob and a rich brat, which he acted like, too, which meant that people could underestimate him, which he seemed to revel in.</p><p>            They were in line for the ticket booth.</p><p>            "Where to, then?" asked Holan.</p><p>            Carden wasn't sure. He had only gone to New Alto because he managed to find a flyer that said something about magic. It was a hypothetical guess more than a hunch, but at this point Carden didn't even have that.</p><p>            "You're the magic one, you tell me what's next."</p><p>            "Okay, first of all, it doesn't work like that, and second of all, even if it did, I'd have to read you, which I can't do, since you won't let me."</p><p>            Carden shrugged before looking at the train map that was poorly painted on the wall of the train station.</p><p>            Holan sighed. "But," he said cautiously, "Maybe I have a good feeling about taking the train to Coldscreek. Heading to the West is probably our best bet, and I have a good feeling about that city in general.</p><p>            "I thought you said it didn't work like that?"</p><p>            "And it doesn't, not all of the time. But sometimes, occasionally, like right now, it does. Sort of. I saw a girl earlier buying a ticket to Coldscreek and I could sense something from her."</p><p>            Carden nodded at this. "And you decided just now to tell me?"</p><p>            "Well, I don't tend to talk to most normal people about stuff like this. It's not exactly normal to talk about magic and sensing stuff so openly like this."</p><p>            "Oh."</p><p>            Carden and Holan walked to the ticket line.</p><p>             "Plus," continued Holan, "it's near the border, but small and less likely to have police or enforcers. It's a little far south, but it's a cheap ride and probably our best bet."</p><p>            Carden only nodded. He  managed to scrape together enough money to get them two tickets, and they were headed off.</p><p>            They managed to get their own seats together on the train. The car furthest to the front just before the upper class private cars. Their tickets were technically for the cars further back, as these were like the middle class cars, but lucky for them, once Holan fixed up Carden's greasy hair and dirt-smudged face back at his place, they were able to pass for something higher up, and if the guards on the train ever actually checked their tickets for car number, they probably wouldn't care enough about two kids in a train car that had a total of six people in it, anyway.</p><p>            "And, besides, if they do care, the worst that happens is we end up in the crowded cars. Not like they'll bother arrest us or charging us or anything. The enforcers on the trains only really care about true stow-aways, magicians trying to cross the border, and thieves. Usually petty thieves and pickpockets and whatnot."</p><p>            "Magicians trying to cross the border?"</p><p>            "Yeah, well, only if there is evidence of magic, of which I have none except for a notebook with some old spells in it. Handwritten and not very suspicious. Mediums are more likely to be suspicious with their crystals and perfumes and shit. Which is why there are less wanted posters for them. They get caught way to easily if they're ever anywhere other the West."</p><p>            "Then, why leave the West at all?"</p><p>            "City folk pay better. Much better."</p><p> </p><p>People in the city pay better. Margaret  knew that. Why else would she travel all the way from Levell to Coldscreek to New Alto and back every week? Maybe so that she could get away from her parents, I mean, she was twenty-one years old, for gods' sake. She never understood how she managed to escape from their thumbs unlike her sisters, but nevertheless she was happy to be away from there, at least for a little while. Though they tried their best to hide it, but Margaret  always noticed how they looked at her. At her bleached hair and dark boots. Coming from an extremely traditional Western family often meant keeping up appearances, but Margaret  realized when she was sixteen that it was probably better for her and her family to be away from them as much as possible. And luckily, Margaret  liked her Grandpa Red more than she liked her mother, father, and three sisters combined. So, it worked out for multiple reasons. One of which, of course, being Margaret 's practice of mediumship.</p><p>            At twelve, Margaret  read a story called "A Woman to Kingston" doing research on Pre- curse War stories for school. Her tutor has expressed that it be best that she not write about any stories involving magic at such a young age, but stories from before the Curse War not being about magic was more than hard to find. Eventually, "A Woman to Kingston" showed up in an old story book than Margaret  found hidden in an untouched section of the Levell library. The book seemed to her it was meant for younger children, but, surprisingly, the story went like this:</p><p>            <em>The woman walked everyday surrounded by ice and shivers. Though her heavy cape did its best to keep her warm, the snow on the ground still clung to the bottom of her dress and frosted the tips of her boots.  </em></p><p>
  <em>            Still, she couldn’t find it in herself to live somewhere warm. In the warmth she couldn’t hide her hands in her gloves, her face under her hood, or her satchel inside her cloak. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            Lonely, she glided along. The world was covered in white that day, but you could see the long, empty path surrounded by scattered tufts of grass that stuck up through the snow. She took her steps slowly and carefully, keeping her back straight and head high, but still keeping her eyes on the ground in front of her, watching her toes as the they peaked out of the edge of her dress with each step. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            She stopped for a moment, feeling a small rumble behind her. She turned and pushed the hood off her head. It was just a carriage. The horses’ trots and the tall wheels pushed through the thin layer of muddy snow that coated the dirt road. It slightly rattled with each little bump in its path. She continued walking, waiting for it to pass. She kept her head high now, and walked a little faster. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The coach did pass, yet she watched carefully as it came to stop only a few yards ahead of her. The driver jumped down and stood cautiously on the side of the road.  As the woman walked up, she could see his eyes widen slightly, but then fall back as he straightened himself and smiled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My master wishes you to join him out of the cold. You are headed to Kingston, yes?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I am, thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He opened the door and she stepped in.  The man named Floyd sat on the far end of the carriage and was looking away as she stepped in. She sat on the edge of the crimson seats and smoothed out her black skirt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She took her hood off to reveal a young, plump face with soft features, pale skin and pale hair, the epitome of plain, but with a hint of depth hidden in gray brown eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man who sat across blinked rapidly for a few seconds as he came to draw his eyes upon her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you sir, for your hospitality and kindness,” the woman said with a graceful nod.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man was silent for second. “It is my pleasure,” he said. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was a long moment where nothing was said. The woman pretended to watch as the white landscape passed by. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She wondered if the man was watching her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I hope you do not think me intrusive," said the man finally, "but, you dress in black. Forgive me for saying, but I was expecting an old woman to stubborn to pay for travel from Chertsey, yet you are so young.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman turned her head toward him. She took so deep a breath that she could feel her lungs fill her corset. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I am a widow,” she answered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man sighed. “I figured as much, but I am sorry, it must have been very recent.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She turned away. “Over two years ago actually, you see I was very young, but I guess you could say that I was very eager to be married."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And who was he?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"He had many friends at the bank, yet I was the only soul to take part in mourning.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He was a banker?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, and a good one at that. He was so smart.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did he have no funeral?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“A small one, but I was still the only to show.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why is that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman gave a sad but stern look, but held her head strong in an almost rebellious action. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man leaned back against the wall of the coach. His face grew white. “Forgive me, madam, my curiosity seems to have left me unmannered.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She continued to look at him. He had very blue eyes that were interesting to her. They were so blue that they reminded her of a sky in the summer. She was mad at how entranced she was by them. He tried to look away, but she could hear his heart beat in his chest and his head pound in his skull. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Would you like to know how my husband died? For he was young as I was.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We were married only a year before he passed. Only a year. We had small house, which we filled with small beds and chairs. We were, of course trying to start a family. Beautiful children were the only things I had ever wanted in my life. As someone beautiful, I was obsessed with trying to find someone to match my beauty so that I could raise the most beautiful children. The most beautiful family, but after four months of trying, it seemed impossible for me to have even one child."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She paused to watch his reaction. Most men were asking many questions at this point, but he just watched her, staring at her with his obnoxious blue eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I could tell my husband was discouraged as well," she continued, "and I tried to find a way to make him love me again. I tried everything. But it seemed nothing could save his spirit. He started staying later and later at work, and I could hear the things people were saying, but I was ridiculously hopeful that he was the perfect husband that I had married."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her face puckered suddenly. "And then one Sunday morning I woke to find my husband had disappeared. Not just him, but his suitcase and most of his clothes had gone as well. I found nothing but a letter on his desk. But I did not read it. I threw it in the fire, for I knew it had the Devil’s signature. He and his demons took my husband from me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man was now staring at the ghostly woman in trembles. As she was talking, he could see her pulling something out of her satchel from underneath her giant black cloak. He went to turn his head toward the window. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“St—!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before he could finish his single word, the woman jumped up with a dagger in hand. A beautiful dagger that was glittered in red jewels.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cold weather meant she could keep her satchel hidden under her cape and her weapon hidden in her satchel. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She leaned forward and pressed the knife against the man’s throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Say nothing.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He kept his hands to his sides and his eyes livid on the woman. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She smiled. “And so now I dress in black in mourning of both my poor husband and the children I could not conceive. I am a widow and shall continue to be a widow until he returns from hell, crying for his dear wife and cursing the demon that took him from me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The whites of her eyes were red and tears rain down her cheeks in a flood. The dagger in her grasp had pressed so deeply onto the man’s skin that it began to draw blood. His teeth were grit with fear and anger. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She pouted her lips. “Men usually try to talk me into help or try to fight against me. Do you fight me by trying to bore me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man thought for a second," I suppose trying not to entertain your games by giving you what you want is a form of fighting you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman gave a loud, cackling laugh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You must forgive me, but you must understand that this is not a game, it is my job. A widowed orphan left with nothing needs to make a living however she can. How about this, just hand me whatever valuables you have on your person, and once we get to Kingston I'll let you free.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He nodded. He began by taking off a pocket watch with a silver chain and a golden necklace that he had around his neck, hidden underneath his shirt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He began to reach inside his jacket. With that, she slit his throat. Blood began to pool down onto his white shirt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman pulled a small sack from the man’s jacket pocket. She sat back into her seat and wiped the end of her knife in the inside of her cloak.<br/>            “You can’t see blood on black fabric.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The carriage continued on, the driver oblivious to the happenings inside. It would not matte as they continued on. And when they arrived in Kingston, she would run out with a new sack full of coins before the driver could notice his master dead, leaving the police to suspect no one but him and his crazy tale about picking up a widow with a young face who was out walking a mile in the cold. </em>
</p><p>            Margaret had been so surprised and changed by the story that it began to change her view on the world. The Island was often said to be a safe place where everyone lived in harmony and people did not have to fear the magic or the unknown. But this story was real. Or, at least, it would have been real. To her, the idea that magic was not the force of evil driving the world, then what was it really? She began to study magic more and more. Her resources for this study were extremely limited, but it was enough to lead her where she began to realize that if she tried hard enough and focused hard enough, she could see outlines of shadows in strange colors and sometimes even hear voices. It was exciting to her, the idea that she could be a medium.</p><p>            When she was fifteen, Margaret 's father found a journal entry that she had left on her desk, where she talked about practicing magic and seeing the figures. That was when she even learned that Grandpa Red existed.</p><p>            At one time, Grandpa Red, Margaret 's grandfather on her mother's side, had been a professor at a University in Levell of Pre-Curse War history and magic. He was known for throwing himself into his work to the point of being shut-in and secretive, being exceptionally smart, if not a bit of a hermit. But this supposedly become a lot more of a problem after his wife, Jeanella, passed away. He went Margaret 's mother and rest of his children to a Western boarding school on the southern coast and threw himself into his work. Soon, the Four World's government and the University had to stop Red in suspicion of practicing magic, though without solid evidence there was no technical crime, but he was banished from the University and from leaving the West.</p><p>            After knowing there would be eyes on him at all times, Grandpa Red vanished. That was, until Margaret 's mother had gotten a letter from him, apologizing for running and explaining that he was in hiding in one of the northern swamp lands.</p><p>            Margaret 's mother told her all this in attempt to explain why practicing magic, especially in a family such as her father's was a dangerous idea. While Margaret 's mother told her this, it became clear to them that Margaret would not stop studying the art, and was more determined than ever to simply escape from the thumb of her family.</p><p>            Her father, of course, having four girls already and not really worrying about what would become of the girl who already acted out too much and couldn't focus and didn't seem to have interest in any suitors, decided to let Margaret live with her Grandfather would be a fine idea.</p><p>            When Margaret learned that she would be living with her Grandfather in exile in the middle of nowhere swamplands, she initially was not very happy. It wasn't until the third week of living with her grandfather that he finally admitted to her that he would help her with her magic. She was confused at first, until he showed her all of what he knew about magic. About the history of the Nameless, about Mediumship, and about curses. All in all, it wasn't really as much as there was to see, but it was at that moment that Margaret felt truly connected with the magic and the mediumship, and so her Grandpa Red gave her Nameless label, of which she was deemed Frail, not because she can be easily broken, but because she allows the ideas of the World to influence her every being and is willing to change in the same way that she wants to change it.</p><p>            But as the years went by, the exile life was not for Margaret, and through some lies but also some newly found maturity under her scholarly grandfather, her parents slowly allowed her to see them and her sister's again. Though, Margaret rarely went to see them.</p><p>            She started trying to enter the dark market for magic, and soon found herself traveling to and from Coldscreek and New Alto for work. Being so alone and taking care of herself for the first time was strange to her, but soon it felt very much like a new power she had. And having her own money meant maybe someday she could put herself through college without the help of her father. The problem was that she found finding actually jobs that seemed real and safe enough for a nineteen-year-old young lady was more difficult in this line of work than she thought. Spending lots of times hiding in the crowds of trains eventually gave her some ideas.</p><p>            Once, she saw a man walk off the train as she was entering. She saw that he left his small bag on a seat. She ran to it, sat on it so that no one else would see. Margaret was not sure why she did it, she only thought that maybe she could get away with it. As the train took off, she slowly took the bag out from under her leg and stuffed in under her black cloak. She took it in to New Alto that day and found that it contained about forty gold pieces, which she used to buy a small dagger for protection.</p><p>            She started to pickpocket a few more times after that. At some point Margaret felt like she was simply there for the thrill of it. But she ignored those feelings as best she could. What else could she do? Her Grandfather was stuck in exile. And the rest of her family treated her like nothing, just waiting for the day when she would get her life back on track and meet a rich man to marry. Being the youngest of four daughters, she often worried about her father taking her back and setting her up for suitors as soon as the second youngest, Jamila, was finally married.</p><p>            And so, she filled that void in her chest with magic and stealing. And on one day on her way back to her Grandfather's house, she sat on the train and saw a man standing next to a woman with long blonde hair. She seemed to be shifting uncomfortably, and Margaret noticed that the man had his hand on her hip, trying to pull her closer. Margaret felt her heart in her throat and moved her eyes around quickly, hoping that someone else was noticing. <em>No </em>she thought. If she waited for someone else to do something, it could end up being to late. She had to do something.</p><p>            She tried her best to be quiet, she soon noticed that she probably looked more suspicious trying to be quiet and slow, so tried to take a more nonchalant tactic. She reached into her white satchel from under her cloak and pulled out her dagger. She held it under the cape next to her, gripping the handle carefully and feeling the sharp metal against her thigh. She stood and shuffled her way over to the man, hoping that no one would think much of it. She stood behind the man, her face now sweating. She saw his pants pocket. To easy. But this was not good enough. He needed to be taught a lesson.</p><p>            After she had been standing there for just a little bit too long, the man started to turn around. Before she could get a glimpse of the whites of his eyes, she brought her dagger out quickly and stabbed him in the back of the thigh. As he screamed out, she snatched the silver pieces from the inside of his pocket and took off running toward the front of the train.</p><p> </p><p>Outside the window, the world was spinning fast. So fast it was like a blur of green and gray and brown. As Carden and Holan began to clear the city limits, the sky began to clear up into its light blue color again. It was so very cold, even with the sun shining, even on the train.</p><p>            "So, if you don't mind me asking," started Holan, "as I'm sure you are as curious with me and I am with you, where did you get those eyes from? You don't see a lot of blue eyes nowadays, let alone a Borderer with blue eyes."</p><p>            "'I'd never seen anyone with yellow hair up until a few days ago. A few people in my village had pale skin, but no one looked like you do."</p><p>            "I'm Eastern, okay? And don't change the subject. As far as I know, even among the 'true,'" he said with his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Easterners that still exist, eyes that are anything other than brown or black are nearly extinct."</p><p>            Carden shook his head. "People in The Peaks always asked my family about it, too. My Dad, like me, grew up in our small village in The Peaks. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, same as my grandparents and about every other family and person living there. My mom grew up in a beach town on the southern Eastwest coast. She had pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes. Not really sure where she got it from. She never talked about her family or left anything about her past life behind. She died when I was five, and my dad never really talked about her after that."</p><p>            Holan's face looked the most serious it ever had since Carden had met him. "I'm sorry," he said.</p><p>            Carden shrugged.</p><p>             "I haven't seen my mom since I was eleven," said Holan. She just left. Not sure where she is."</p><p>            "I'm sorry," said Carden. Carden was about to ask him another question until they suddenly heard a commotion coming from behind them.</p><p>            A door opened, and <em>Don't let her get away!</em> was heard from the other side before the door quickly slammed shut. A girl, short and skinny wearing a black cape that seemed much too big for her was panting as she held the door handle shut. Carden, Holan, and the four other passengers in the train car stared in shock.</p><p>            The girl turned and saw them all staring. "Well, are you going to help them or help me? Because I can't hold this door for much longer."</p><p>            The passengers all looked at each other. Carden was the first to rise. He raced over to the door and grabbed the door handle.</p><p>            "Go," he said. "If you run through the next few train cars, there should be a luggage car. Find it and hide there. I'll distract them."</p><p>            The girl looked behind her at the other passengers. An older woman stood up, and went to the door, grabbing her by the arm. "Let's get you out of here." She began to drag the girl to the other side of the car</p><p>            'Wait," said Carden. "I have an idea. Give me your cloak."</p><p>            "What!" said the girl.</p><p>            "You'll get it back, I promise, trust me."</p><p>            The girl, hesitant at first but speeding up at the sound of fists banging against the door, took off her cloak to reveal a very bright pink and blue dress underneath, along with bright white stockings, and an ornate pink and white satchel across her body. Her hair was bleached white and braided and pinned into circle patterns on her head. Without her cloak, she was now a very different person, but no one said a thing.</p><p>            Carden took the cloak. "Someone hold this, and get her out." Holan was now up and opening the door to the other car. The younger boy that was with the woman, along with an older man who had been sitting by himself were now both up and holding onto the door the handle as the banging became even louder. Carden quickly put the cape on over him, looking just as short in the cloak as she did, although he was stockier than her, but after wrapping himself up in it and pulling the cloak over the one he was already wearing, He figured he'd look enough like a running black blob for anyone to notice.</p><p>            Carden went to grab the door handle again. "Get back to your seats." Everyone did as Carden asked, and when he let go of the door, it quickly swung open, and Carden managed to back away quickly as three guards forced their way in.</p><p>            "Get her!"</p><p>            Carden, with his head down and running fast, slipped his way under the guards as they raced for him and ran through the door to head to the back of the train.</p><p>            As he ran, he could hear the commotion from behind him, but he kept going through cars that became more and more full of people until he finally hit the common seats. the train car that was literally groups of people standing in a crowd for hours on end, the idea of which made Carden's heart beat in his head and chest. He headed for the crowd, hoping for some miracle that everything would end up okay and that nobody was going to get hurt. But he got himself into this mess, and wasn't going to let himself get captured now.</p><p>            He pushed his way through the crowd until he managed to find a corner that he could almost move around in. The guards were now pushing past the crowds to try and find him. Or her, Carden guessed. He carefully began to take of the cloak and stuffed it under his own shirt. He had promised to bring it back, after all. He realized that he needed to make himself look so unlike the black cloaked girl, that his own raised hood might draw some suspicions. After some deliberation, he took his hood down, and kept his gloved hands in the pockets of his brown, leather jacket. And then he slowly made his way back. He tried to keep his faced tucked inside his red scarf, but not so much that he would look like he was hiding. He was moving very slowly and awkwardly, not just due to the crowd, but because of the cloak he was hiding under his shirt which made him look a bit strange and lumpy, but no one seemed to say anything. Most people were focused on the guards that were asking about a young girl with bleached hair. Thank the gods these people were somehow ridiculously stupid. As Carden began to make his way out of the crowd, someone grabbed his arm. He yelped and looked up to see an Eastern looking guard above him. "Where are you going?"</p><p>            "Uh," said Carden. "The next stop is in Pedrorock. I'm getting a connection there and want to be one of the first ones off so I don't miss it."</p><p>            "Be careful," he said without any hesitating or suspicion. "There's a pickpocket on this train, keep on the lookout for a dark- skinned girl with short bleached hair. Very noticeable, can't miss her."</p><p>            "Will do," Carden said, trying very hard not to laugh.</p><p>Once he made it back to his car, he saw that the four other passengers were still there, looking quite riled up, but saying nothing. But Holan was gone, along with his stuff. "Luggage car," he said.</p><p>            "Holan, it's me. It's just me," Carden said as he made his way into the car piled high with crates and chests and hat boxes.</p><p>            The two seemed to appear from within the depths of bags and boxes, seeming to hold back laughter from the atrocity of their hiding places. Carden handed the girl her black cloak. She nodded and put it back on, wrapping herself in it for a warmth that she seemed to have been craving. The three sat in the chaos and listened to the rolling of the heavy train wheels.</p><p>            "Why did you help me?" asked the girl.</p><p>            Carden looked at Holan.</p><p>            "Don't look at me," he said. "She hasn't spoken but two words since we got here."</p><p>            The girl had one of those looks to her that made it seem like she could have been anywhere between fifteen and thirty years old. She was young, and maybe a bit childish, but still wise beyond her years.</p><p>            "Are you a medium? Are you a Nameless?" said Carden, finally.</p><p>            "You can't just ask someone that," she said.  "I may be a petty thief, but I'm no magic user."</p><p>            "Sure, sweetheart," said Holan. "And I'm a sober, well-respected doctor and straight husband who is also just admiring the inner working of a luggage cart."</p><p>            The girl was quiet for a second. "I'm not sure what you mean."</p><p>            "I mean I can sense the magic on you, blondie. Plus, a girl who needs to steal and pickpocket doesn't dress like a tulip princess."</p><p>            She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. I come from money and like to cause trouble. So what? Doesn't mean I'm a medium."</p><p>            "Except that I can read you like a newspaper," said Holan.</p><p>            "What do you mean?" asked the girl.</p><p>            Holan just stared at her for a moment or two.</p><p>            "Oh," she said, realizing. "So, you are also¾"</p><p>            "Took you long enough," said Holan.</p><p>            "Well, excuse me for assuming that you helped me because you thought I was cute, and not because you wanted free services."</p><p>            "Ha!" Holan laughed.</p><p>            "Here's the thing about that," interrupted Carden. "I am looking for something specific."</p><p>            "I only hear what the dead tell me, I don't know how much use I am in finding things."</p><p>            "I'm not asking you to talk to dead people. Yet. Have you ever heard of a place called the Garden?"</p><p>            "The Garden? Do you mean like Flourwed? The Eastern place of healing? That old tale?"</p><p>            Carden felt a sliver of hope shiver down his spine like electricity. "What have you heard about it?"</p><p>            "My grandfather was a professor before he went into hiding. He used to study ancient spells and stories from the Nameless and the Cherish. He told me about an old Eastern healing place that was created before the wars but used and then hidden after it. I always assumed it was just part of story. Like a magic, ancient term for the East."</p><p>            "How have you heard of it, but not me?"</p><p>            "Like I said, my grandfather studied it. He got deep enough into it that the Four Worlds didn't like it. And so, he went into hiding to protect both himself and my family."</p><p>            "Speaking of your family," said Holan, "who are you and why is your family rich?"</p><p>            "My name is Margaret Warren. As in Symmil-Warren, the paper companies?"</p><p>            "Oh, yes, your family is half the reason why New Alto give people lung sickness."</p><p>            She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't say half. Besides, I've never really agreed with the whole factory business stuff. I love my family, they treat me well, and let me do what I want, but I've always been like my grandfather. We're pretty close. Actually, I was going home to Levell visit my parents, but we could head further north instead, once we reach Coldscreek, I know a line that goes to small town near where my grandfather is hiding out. We could go visit him, he might be able to answer some questions for you."</p><p>            "How lucky are we," said Holan. "The one bitch that we save before even getting to the West turns out to be perfect addition to the team. Rich, magical, and knowledgeable."</p><p>            "I'll punch you if you call me that again."</p><p>            The three sat, talking and thinking for quite a while as they waited for the train to reach the town at the Western border, their minds racing and feet tapping to the clangs and whistles of the train.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Into the West</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carden and Holan were having trouble navigating through the forestry in the way that Margaret could. The nearest town from here had been excited to see her return, but they got there later than expected, so they couldn’t stay long.</p>
<p>            “Have to get there before the bugs do,” Margaret had laughed.</p>
<p>            Carden, now trying swatting gnats and mosquitos from his face and walk at the same time, understood what she had meant. But mostly, he couldn’t believe how humid it was. The air tasted like pond water and dirt. Many meters ahead, Margaret had paused to wait for them, leaning against a tree and looking just the tiniest bit smug.</p>
<p>            “We’re almost there, guys!” she called.</p>
<p>            “This place is like a maze in a sauna,” said Holan, repeating Carden’s thoughts.</p>
<p>            Margaret took off again, weaving through the trees as if she had done this a hundred times. And she probably had, even if it had been a year since the last time. There was no visible path that Carden or Holan could see, but Margaret could tell each tree from another, could see their distance from the creek they walked a few miles parallel to and just seemed to know. As the sky grew darker, the forest seemed to glow brighter, as rays framed it in orange, beginning to set right over the horizon, and would have completely blinded them if it weren’t for the thick forest in the way.</p>
<p>            “So, this book you keep talking about,” said Holan. “Where did you find it?”</p>
<p>            “Just, an old bookstore in the middle of nowhere.”</p>
<p>            “It just happened to turn up there?”</p>
<p>            “I’m not sure either. But it was nearly just a pile of old papers when I got it. I rebound it, but half of it is still barely legible. I’m not even sure if I have all the pages.”</p>
<p>            “If you’re not sure, then how do you figure this place really exists?”</p>
<p>            “There’s a poem in it. It was written by a, uh, Western Medium, but the poem itself was about The Garden and how it was protected by the, uh, Eastern Foreseers.”</p>
<p>            Holan rolled his eyes, “Seriously, what cave did you crawl out of?”</p>
<p>            “Anyhow, I said before, it might not be exactly correct, but if it really does exist, I have to find it.”</p>
<p>            “Can I see it?”</p>
<p>            “See what?”</p>
<p>            “The book. The poem.”</p>
<p>            Carden froze.</p>
<p>            “We’re here!”</p>
<p>            Carden could hear Margaret, but looking out in front of him, she was missing from the puzzle of trees and weeds and greenery.</p>
<p>            “Woah,” said Holan.</p>
<p>            “What?”</p>
<p>            Holan pointed upward and Carden’s eyes followed. There, he saw Margaret, her bleached hair and pink clothing standing out against the foliage, climbing up the limbs of the tree, where, at the top, he could see a platform. Connected to this was a series of bridges, leading to different trees where houses were built inside the trees’ leaves and branches.</p>
<p>            “Oh,” said Carden. “Woah.”</p>
<p>Climbing the tree, surprisingly, was easy enough for Carden. Years of traveling and butchering gave him more strength and stamina than he had realized. Holan, on the other hand, was having more trouble.</p>
<p>            “Come on, Prince Charming. We don’t have all day!”</p>
<p>            “Shut up, Margaret!”</p>
<p>Margaret and Carden stood on the first main platform, waiting patiently as they watched Holan struggle. Holan was wrapping himself around the tree rather than actually climbing it.</p>
<p>            “Hey,” Margaret said quietly to Carden. “My grandpa hasn’t seen me in over a year and to suddenly come back with three strangers might be a lot for him. I’m just gonna go in and, I don’t know, get some things sorted first.”</p>
<p>            Carden nodded and Margaret turned to go walk the bridge to the front door.</p>
<p>            Holan was now very nearly to the top, his arms straining and his legs shaking.</p>
<p>            “A little help here!”</p>
<p>            “Oh, right.” Carden looked at his hands. He set down his bag before checking his gloves. He double checked them for holes and pulled them tight up to his wrists, pulling his jacket sleeves down over them before reaching out.</p>
<p>Holan grabbed his hand.</p>
<p>“Hold on.” Carden held tight as Holan used his hand as an anchor to pull the rest of himself up.</p>
<p>They walked across the bridge and waited a few moments outside the tarped entrance way.</p>
<p>“Hello?” said Holan.</p>
<p>Margaret came out, smiling. “Come on,” she said, “Time to meet my Grandpa Red.”</p>
<p>The inside was cramped and humid. Mats and blankets littered the front floor. The walls were wooden and rotting and mossy. Over to the far side of the hut was a kitchen, a small firepit glimmered in the middle where a pot of water sat, covered. There were cupboards and shelves that lined a far wall, and small round table that sat in the opposite corner, where a man was preparing cups for tea.</p>
<p>            Grandpa Red was a short, skinny man with no hair and big eyebrows. He stood at a fire where he set a pot of water. When the boys came in, he turned to look at them and gave a big grin. His teeth were yellow and stained, but they were all there, which was surprising to Carden, as his grandparents had both lost at least half their teeth by the time they were seventy, and with the wrinkles that mapped on this man’s face, he could have easily been in his early eighties.</p>
<p>            “Well, I guess I must thank you for bringing my little Frail back to me.”</p>
<p>            “Grandad, please, you don’t need to call me that.”</p>
<p>            “You kids have no respect for traditions.”</p>
<p>            Holan squinted, “What? Frail? What traditions?”</p>
<p>            Carden answered. “It’s an old Nameless tradition for students to give up their birth names in exchange for a new one that is given to them by their teacher as a sort of ritual. A kind of disconnection from the worldly to create a connection to the other worldly.”</p>
<p>            “It’s pointless and old,” said Margaret. “It was fun when I was kid, but now it’s just rude.”</p>
<p>            “Oh, I have very good reasons for giving you the name I did,” said Red. “But you,” he said, pointing at Carden, “How do you know all that?”</p>
<p>            “I’ve done some reading.”</p>
<p>            Red looked at Carden. He had a strange look on his face. “Why don’t you come sit down?” he said.</p>
<p>            The four sat around a small kitchen table, sipping hot, earthy tea from ceramic cups.</p>
<p>            “My granddaughter tells me you are looking for The Garden.”</p>
<p>            “Have you heard of it?” asked Carden.</p>
<p>            “Oh, yes. My father told me about it once. A place in East, full of magic spirits and this and that. But it is only stories.”</p>
<p>            “How do you know?”</p>
<p>            “Because if a place like that really existed the East would have found it and told the Four World’s Council. Keeping a place like that secret would break the peace treaty. So, even if it did exist at one time, it would have been destroyed.”</p>
<p>            “Not if the Cherish themselves kept it secret. If only a Cherish can find The Garden, then they could keep it hidden from the Eastern government.”</p>
<p>            “And how do you know that only a Cherish can find it?”</p>
<p>            “I found it in a book.”</p>
<p>            “And what do you need my granddaughter for?”</p>
<p>            “Well, the book mentions Nameless as well. I figured that if it did exist, it would be best to bring it along. I mean, you know about The Garden, so it must have something to do with the Nameless as well.”</p>
<p>            “So,” said Red after a short while, “How much do you know about me and my granddaughter?”</p>
<p>            Holan spoke up. “Like, magic-wise? Didn’t get to catch up on a whole lot, but, it’s cool. I’m actually a foreseer myself.” If Carden didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Holan actually looked a little embarrassed to admit that.”</p>
<p>            “I thought so,” said Red, “But you don’t have any proper training, do you? Since you’re here, you either grew up in the Eastwest or an Eastern plantation. Not a lot of older generations living there to teach you. Any Cherish left over from after the curse wars didn’t have the luxury we did in the West, and if there any are still alive, they are probably stuck in the East, keeping their heads down.”</p>
<p>            Holan huffed. “Sure, I taught myself. Whatever.”</p>
<p>            “How?”</p>
<p>            Holan looked up. “My mother’s mother was an escapee back in the day. She managed to convince my grandfather’s family who lived out in The Plains to take her as an arranged marriage. She managed to get out, married my grandfather, had my mother. My mother, as a child, found some old writings of my grandmother’s family that she had secretly brought with her. How and why, I don’t know. But it talked about the, uh, Cherish and magic or something. And somehow, she practiced. When the family found out, they threatened to send her back to the East for trial or something. I mean, how screwed up is that? She was like thirteen.” Holan’s faced was scrunching and turning red, but he took a deep breath. “My grandmother ended up helping her escape with the papers and she never saw any of them again. She lived on the streets for a while, started practicing magic secretly, but she stopped when she met my father.</p>
<p>            “One morning, she just woke me up and gave me the papers, told me about magic and how special it was. And then she was gone. Disappeared.” Holan took a sip of his tea.</p>
<p>            “What happened to your father?”</p>
<p>            He shook his head. “Not important. Dead. Doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>            Red was just sat nodding. And the room was quiet for many moments.</p>
<p>            “So, Borderer, what’s your story?” Red said, finally.</p>
<p>            “Ha, your turn, hermit,” said Holan.</p>
<p>            “Oh, I’m nobody,” he said. “I guess I’m just curious.”</p>
<p>            “Well, how does a Borderer come to know about all this, anyway?” said Margaret.</p>
<p>            “I told you, I read.”</p>
<p>            “Why so interested in magic, then?” said Red.</p>
<p>            Carden and Red locked eyes.</p>
<p>            “Does there have to be a reason? I mean, it’s just something I came upon when I was a kid and I started to look into it.”</p>
<p>            “And what did your family think about this.”</p>
<p>            “I don’t have any family.”</p>
<p>            It was quiet for a beat until Red spoke up again.</p>
<p>            “So, where exactly are you from, Borderer.”</p>
<p>            “Tottenheim. It’s a small village in the northern Peaks.”</p>
<p>            “Farm town?”</p>
<p>            Carden nodded. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>            “So, what did you find in a small village in the northern Peaks that made you so interested in magic?”</p>
<p>            Carden was quiet. He looked at the cup of the tea in front of him. He let the heat of it come through his gloves and warm his hands.</p>
<p>            “This is the first time you’ve left your home in your whole life, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>            Margaret spoke up. “Grandpa, what’s going on?”</p>
<p>            “Your friend here is hiding something from you. He doesn’t think that there’s gold at The Garden.”</p>
<p>            “Wait.”</p>
<p>            “You lived next to a cursed land, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>            “That has nothing to do with this.”</p>
<p>            “It has everything to do with it.”</p>
<p>            “Carden,” said Holan, “What is he talking about. What aren’t you telling us?”</p>
<p>            “Will you tell them, or shall I?”</p>
<p>            Carden wanted to leave, to run, anything except for stay there. But if he gave up now, it all qould have been for nothing.</p>
<p>            “How did you know?”</p>
<p>            Red’s suddenly changed from accusing to pity. “They are too young and inexperienced to sense it, but my father told me once that standing next to a cursed man makes you feel all your hairs standing on one end and electricity shooting down your spine.”</p>
<p>            Holan and Margaret were looking at Carden with more curiosity than anger.</p>
<p>            “Carden,” Margaret began, “is cursed? But that’s not possible. No one knows how to curse people anymore. No one. Even among Westerners, its taboo.”</p>
<p>            “A person didn’t curse him, but a place. A cursed land.”</p>
<p>            “But didn’t they all die out? Or like get eradicated or something?”</p>
<p>            “The large ones to the south were all eradicated after the wars, but many Nameless living in North had moved into the Peaks to escape magical persecution after the war. A Nameless must have set up a cursed border near your town. Some of it went away in time, but some of it, the center, still remains.”</p>
<p>            Carden nodded.</p>
<p>“And you disturbed it, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“I was kid. I didn’t know what it was. My mother had told me that magic was powerful, and when I found out about the weird stuff happening in mountain, I just thought, maybe it’s nothing. But maybe it is magic. Maybe magic does still exist. And if it does, is it powerful enough to bring my mom back?”</p>
<p>“Foolish boy.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to tell me what I was. What I am.”</p>
<p>“What did the curse do to you?” asked Margaret.</p>
<p>“I’ve been wondering that myself, though I may have some ideas,” said Red.</p>
<p>Carden closed his eyes. He looked around. Out the window next to them, a dragonfly landed on the sill.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said, “I’ll show you.” He walked over to the window and held out his gloved hand and waited. The dragonfly landed on his finger. Carden turned to show them, taking the glove off of his other hand with his teeth. Once his hand was free, he went to pat its tiny head with his finger. At the first touch, the dragonfly stiffened and fell over onto the table, dead.</p>
<p>            Holan immediately stood and back up to the other side of the room. “What the hell?”</p>
<p>Carden thought back to when Holan asked to hold his hands for a reading. Or when he sat shoulder to shoulder with him on the train. Or when he helped him up the final rungs of that later to the treehouse.</p>
<p>            “I told that I don’t like to be touched.”</p>
<p>            “Yeah, no shit,” said Holan.</p>
<p>            “Wait,” said Margaret. “I don’t mean to pry, but when you said that you don’t have any family, did you, um, accidentally, um.” She didn’t finish.</p>
<p>            Carden, as he pulled his glove back on and picked the dragonfly back up, closed his eyes and took a long breath. “I was so young when it happened, the magic through me back like a ragdoll. I should have died there. My dad immediately came down to help me.”</p>
<p>            Red put a hand on Carden’s shoulder. It was a surprising gesture, but Carden could still tell that he was hesitant to do it.</p>
<p>            “I am sorry, Carden,” he said.</p>
<p>            “So,” said Margaret again, “what does all of this have to do with The Garden?”</p>
<p>            Carden shook his head and pulled out the book from his jacket pocket. He opened it to the page with the poem and laid it on the table.</p>
<p>            Margaret, as she read, became more intrigued, “You think that you can break it.”</p>
<p>            “No,” said Red. “He thinks that <em>you two</em> can break it.”</p>
<p>            “Wait, so there’s no treasure?” asked Holan, looking at Carden angrily, “You lied to me?”</p>
<p>            “Well, technically the poem does say that there are trees of gold,” said Margaret, “so, no, not really.”</p>
<p>            “Why are you so okay with this?” asked Holan.</p>
<p>            Margaret thought for a moment. “Well, he did save me from those cops on the train.”</p>
<p>            “Okay, no. No. No. You just feel sorry for him, you little flirt.”</p>
<p>            “You knew from the start that this Garden place might not even exist, so why is this the thing that bothers you?”</p>
<p>            “Because I thought hermit here was stuck inside due to an overprotective, rich family. Not because he’s a monster who literally kills everything he touches. Why are you defending him?"</p>
<p>            "I'm not, I just think you need to calm down before you hurt someone, or get hurt."</p>
<p>            This time, Carden did leave, walking out of the hut onto the terrace that overlooked the jungle. He could feel his eyes burning, and his chest felt heavy. Behind him, he heard the hut door open, and out stepped Holan behind him. He huffed and walked off, grabbing the ladder and starting to climb down.</p>
<p>            "Wait, Holan!" Carden heard Margaret yelling from the house. Carden looked out in front of him, seeing a large tree branch that was a few feet away, and leaped for it. He grabbed a hold and managed to pull himself up. Looking around, he could see that each tree was easy enough to get to from there, and so he began to slowly reach and climb along the trees until he was far enough that he felt that for once in many days, he was truly alone.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Red's Map</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carden was now sleeping away tree that had taken him thirty minutes to get to, but once he was there, he wrapped himself in his jacket to hide from the mosquitos and tried to fall asleep. Soon, a half moon was hanging overhead, and as Carden looked at it, he soon heard breathing next to him. "Margaret!" he said, startled.</p><p>            "Sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to scare you." Carden couldn't help but notice the way she stepped back as he jumped up.</p><p>            He looked at her and realized that she was also wearing a pair of old black gloves along with a shirt with a high neck and long sleeves.</p><p>            She answered when she saw him looking, "I don't mean to offend you."</p><p>            "Oh, no, it's fine," Carden said.</p><p>            Carden wondered if it offended him. If it would offend him more if people didn't try to protect themselves around him. That implies that people know, of course, which had never happened outside of his Grandparents, who were never really the touchy feely type anyway.</p><p>            "Do you never take off your cloak even when you're alone?"</p><p>            "Yeah, of course I do, in a place that's safe."</p><p>            "But you're a mile away from any person, how is that not safe?"</p><p>            "Yes, far from a person, not from all living things, though."</p><p>            "What, you have something about accidently killing bugs?"</p><p>            "Kind of, but that's not the reason. Plants are living, too."</p><p>            Margaret stopped to think for a minute.</p><p>            "I only killed a tree once, on a test, and it started decaying nearly within the hour, fell within the next day. It's too dangerous, I don't know what that could do. Especially in a forest like this."</p><p>            "What about flowers?"</p><p>            "Well, it's interesting actually because any plants that are in the ground and I touch them, they do a similar thing. They slowly start to wither and die. But when a plant is picked for the first time, for a long while it's sort of like an undead creature. It is both dead and alive at the same time. Somehow, my curse doesn't affect those things. That's why I can eat those plants and have picked flowers."</p><p>            Margaret nodded. Carden sat back down in his crevice of the tree, and Margaret sat down, too. Carden stilled as he realized that she was scooting closer to him, her arm next to his. He could barely feel the warm from her next to him. But he could feel it.</p><p>            "I was just wondering it must be such a lonely life, not being able to be with lots of people."</p><p>            Carden tried not to think about what she possibly could have meant by the words <em>be with</em>. "It's nice, to answer these questions. I've been studying magic and my curse over many years and it's nice to know that other people know."</p><p>            "I can understand that. We all have our secrets."</p><p>            Carden laughed.</p><p>            "I mean, I am practicing magic. I could go to prison for being what I am. You wouldn't. You would just be, I don't know,"</p><p>            "Taken by some men with no names and experimented on and kept contained to keep me away from society?"</p><p>            "You don't know that. I mean, you are proof of the dangers of magic. It's not your fault what happened to you. The Four Worlds would love to use that in their propaganda. They could make you famous."</p><p>            Carden shook his head. "I couldn't show my face anywhere if people knew about my curse. Imagine being known as the guy who kills anything he touches. Imagine if people tried to claim it was a hoax, like all the other people who don't believe magic ever really existed. People could end up hurt. And no matter what, I would end up more alone than I ever have."</p><p>            Margaret held her hand out in front of her and brought it down to where his sat in his lap. Carden hesitated, but eventually he let her take his hand and grasp it in hers. It was a strange feeling. At first he was scared, but when everything managed to calm down, he felt a pain in his chest that he couldn't describe. It felt tight like something was gripping his heart, and eventually it released. And in doing so, the relief of the pain came with water that welled up in his eyes. He looked away and wanted to keep Margaret from seeing, though he figured that by the silence that surrounded both of them, it was fairly obvious what had happened.</p><p>            "Umm, hey," he finally said after a few minutes. "Can I show you something cool?" He took his hand out of hers and snuck a quick swipe of his sleeve on his face to catch the last of the tears. "Let's go down."</p><p>            They slowly climbed down the tree, Margaret asking why and Carden not telling her. But she was happy that he was happy. She had never seen him like this in the short time that they had gotten to know each other, and it was nice. To see him so happy and almost carefree. Like a child.</p><p>            When they finally got to the ground, Carden started walking for a while, searching around for something. "Here!" he said.</p><p>            They came to a small patch of grass that sat in a high ground in the swampy marsh.</p><p>            "Just to be safe, could you stand back a little?" said Carden.</p><p>            Margaret nodded and stood back a few feet.</p><p>            Then, Carden took off his glove and reached down onto the ground for a second before standing back up and pulling his glove back on. He looked over at her and nodded. "Come see."</p><p>            Margaret went over, confused, until she looked down at the patch of grass and laughed. There was now a section of dead grass in the middle of the patch in the shape of Carden's hand. She leaned down to look at it and took her glove off. She held her palm against the shape of the dead grass and held it there, looking at how much bigger Carden's hands were from hers and thinking about what it would be like to really touch his hand. "It's beautiful," she said. "You could, like, write messages and stuff with this."</p><p>            "Only if there's grass around. Plus. Once it's there, it's basically there forever. Grass doesn't come back to life."</p><p>            "No, but you can dig it up, and that's a puzzle that is never going to be able to be put back again."</p><p>            They stayed there for a little while longer and just waited.</p><p>            "Umm, I should probably get back. To the house. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."</p><p>            Carden did not know how to respond and before he knew it, she was gone.</p><p>            Carden wasn't sure about what was going to happen next. Eventually, he had to go back to the house. He knew he needed to apologize, and that he couldn't force anyone to help him, but he felt that he had so little choice now. He had given up everything just to come this far, and he wondered if he would give up even more to break this curse.</p><p>            "Hey, guys," he said as he entered the treehouse. The three sat at the kitchen table, Margaret and Red eating and Holan smoking, which seemed semi-dangerous to be doing in a tree, but whatever. "I'm so sorry I brought you all into this. I never wanted to get anyone hurt. I just didn't really know what to do. I'm going to try to get answers, go to the East, whatever, with you guys or not, so I don't expect anything. But I'll find some way to repay you for getting me this far."</p><p>            "Shut up," said Holan. "Old dude has been talking to us some."</p><p>            "Basically kept him from storming off to his death, probably," said Margaret.</p><p>            Holan rolled his eyes. "The point is, there is proof here that there may be more proof to this than I even thought, and whatever is there, doing this means I could learn more about magic, about foreseeing, and about why my mom left, so, you know."</p><p>            "I think he's in," said Margaret.</p><p>            "And you are?"</p><p>            Margaret sighed. "I admit I might have had my doubts, but, I've been living essentially on the run for so long, it's not like I have anything better to do."</p><p>            "Great!" said Red, suddenly looking more alive than the three people less than half his age. "I know where you should start." He stood and headed to one of the corner rooms, and returned with a map, and he laid it out on the table. It was yellowing and thin, but surprising well preserved considering it was a map of the East, something that did not really exist in the other countries anymore.</p><p>            "I've been speculating where the Garden might be for a long time, now," he said. "And I think I've got it narrowed down to about here." He pointed to a northern point on the map, which indicted a large, flat piece of forestland nearly in the center of the map.</p><p>            "Why there?"</p><p>            "Because it has to be somewhere the Eastern people would want to keep sacred, anyway. The evergreen forests have been sacred to the Eastern people for quite some time, and these ones, throughout history, have been the furthest away from any town, city, or village."</p><p>            "Why?"</p><p>            "Probably because the magic of the Garden is protecting it, making non-magic people unable to reach that far, or even making it so that there is a kind of protection that gets people lost if they go in the forest, a kind of circular magic that makes people always end up where they started. That spell is not super well documented, but it is mentioned in some texts as an old way of protecting small towns and villages back in the day."</p><p>            Carden nodded. "This is great, thank you."</p><p>            Red rolled the map back up. "Here, hold onto this. Protect it, not just for me, but for your sake. Of anyone were to find out what you were up to, it could put all of us in serious danger."</p><p>            "I understand."</p><p>            "Okay, cool, yeah, but how exactly are we supposed to get there without being discovered?"</p><p>            "I have an old friend over on an Eastern Plantation. She'll know more about the East than I. Go there and she'll be able to help you. Give her this." He went to a nearby box and pulled out a necklace with an amulet of wolf on it. He handed it to Margaret, who put it around her neck. "She'll know what it means. That it's from me."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"We'll have to stop somewhere for supplies," said Margaret. Carden and Holan looked up from their dinners at her. The sky had started to turn navy, but the hut and the life around them still glowed in the forest's strange green.</p><p>            "I know what you're thinking," said Red, "And I'm not going to stop you, but it may not be the best idea."</p><p>            Margaret scoffed. "It is a good idea, you just don't like the rest of your family."</p><p>            "It's not like I have no reason not to."</p><p>            "Wait, what?" asked Holan.</p><p>            "We're going to go to Levell to visit your family?" said Carden.</p><p>            Holan put his fork down and leaned back in his chair. "I thought you didn't talk to them?"</p><p>            Margaret shook her head. "I never said that. We have a..." She paused for a moment," complicated relationship. They don't approve of me and my life choices, but they haven't completely abandoned me yet."</p><p>            "But do they know about your¾"</p><p>            "Talking to spirits? Yes and no. Interest in magic was how I got sent away, but we don't really talk about it. They think I'm working as a seamstress's assistant in the nearby village here, going into the cities to get supplies and make deliveries and such."</p><p>            Holan was nodding in approval.</p><p>            Carden wasn't so sure. "But how are you going to explain us?"</p><p>            "I've thought about it," said Margaret. "But, I figure if I just introduce you as friends from travel and work, they won't bother to ask more questions. I am going to need to dress you guys up, though. Just a bit.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Preparing for the Warrens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Red had also given the group a small amount of money and some dried fruits for traveling.</p><p>Carden noticed how the girls in the shop all turned to him and Holan when the three of them stepped through the door.</p><p>            "Are they looking at me or you?" whispered Holan to Carden, who jumped.</p><p>            "I'm not even sure why you think it's a good idea for me to be in here."</p><p>            "Nonsense!" answered Margaret. "We'll be careful! You can have your own dressing room here and I'll just hand stuff to you under the door."</p><p>            Carden still felt crowded and uncomfortable. There were three female workers in the store that he could see, as well as some stairs that meant even more people could be hiding upstairs. The whole place was cramped and made him want to curl up into a ball.</p><p>            Margaret, looking at Carden, made a face of understanding and turned. She walked across the room and said something to the women there. They nodded, and Margaret came walking back.</p><p>            "Follow me," she said, leading him to the back of the store and into one of the dressing rooms. "Start undressing, okay? I'll be back with clothes."</p><p>            Carden was now waiting in the back room, under Margaret's instructions, began taking his hood, scarf, and boots off.</p><p>            There was a knock on the other side of the door.</p><p>            "Carden?" said Margaret. "I'm sliding some clothes under the door now."</p><p>            Carden back away from the door carefully as he saw Margaret's picks slide underneath. She gave a quick knock before he heard her walking away. He grabbed the clothes and looked at them.</p><p>            They were the same colors as the clothes underneath Margaret's cloak. Pink trousers that felt like what Carden always imagined silk felt like, a light blue shirt of the same fabric, and dark blue coat with white trim. It was the most extravagant outfit Carden had ever seen in person, let alone had worn. </p><p>            Margaret knocked after a while. "Doing okay in there?"</p><p>            "Yeah, I've got them on, but I'm not sure they really fit right."</p><p>            "Okay, here. I'm going to open the door."</p><p>            Carden was nervous until he saw her wearing white gloves under her long sleeves. As she looked at him, she seemed to make a face of surprise, but managed to hide it quickly.</p><p>            "You don't have the jacket buttoned up right," she said, "Here."</p><p>            She reached out and started messing with the jacket. The top of her head was only a few inches from his chin. He tried to keep his head and up and away from her, scared to make any sudden movements. He felt the sides of the jacket pressing tighter against his torso.</p><p>            "I haven't seen you without all the stuff covering your face a hair before."</p><p>            "There's a reason for that."</p><p>            "I know, I know. But it's nice to see. You have a nice face."</p><p>            Carden wasn't sure how to respond to that, but was then interrupted by a newly-dressed Holan, in a pink and white suit with navy blue boots.</p><p>            "You're playing a dangerous game here, Margaret," Holan said. He looked up and noticed Carden and he made a face that Carden wasn't sure how to decipher.</p><p>            Margaret rolled her eyes. "Guess I like living on the edge."</p><p>            "Well, well. I knew you had nice eyes, but look at the rest of you. Who knew that under all those baggy layers there was Prince Dark and Handsome."</p><p>            Carden quickly looked away to stare at the ceiling.</p><p>            "Aw," said Holan, "He's even cute when he blushes."</p><p> </p><p>In their new getups, the trio discussed taking the train to get to Levell. In the past, Margaret would save up her money by simply covering her clothes in a black cloak and sneaking onto the train or buying the cheap tickets to the back. But with the three of them, it would be difficult for them to hide themselves in the cheap sections of the train, and even the middle section would be slightly dangerous for them with all the bags and luggage they now had to carry. While it meant using up the very last of Margaret and Carden's money, they had managed to splurge on first class train tickets.</p><p>            Holan had mentioned that all this spending was counterproductive, since the point of this trip was to get money from Margaret's family in the first place, but Margaret assured them that it would ultimately be worth it.</p><p>            Though, actually, she wasn't very sure. Margaret hated to admit it, but she was nervous about the outcome of all this. Trying to sneak into the East, to find a secret world, to practice magic somewhere outside the safety of the New Alto market. She was worried that even though her family wanted almost nothing to do with her, this experience could be the last time she might be able to see them. At least for a very long time.</p><p>            As they prepared to be boarded the train for Levell, she could tell Holan and Carden were feeling out of place from everything.</p><p>            "Give your bags to the porter when he holds his hand out. You can be kind and thankful, but don't say no." She noticed a worried look on Holan's face. "I promise you'll get it back."</p><p>            Holan took a deep breath and they continued to board. After bags were taken and they were on board, they made their way to their compartment. . It was a simple space with benched on other side and a table in the middle. Holan hopped into one side and Carden into the other. Margaret, looking from Carden to Holan then back to Carden finally scooted and sat next to Holan in the left side seat.</p><p>            "Really? What happened to living on the edge?" asked Holan.</p><p>            "Oh, shut up," said Margaret.</p><p>            "For the record, I am not the least bit offended," said Carden.</p><p>            Margaret was glad, and while she saw relief in Carden's face, she was sure she could see disappointment as well.</p><p>They all let out a sigh of relief once they were safely in their compartment and they felt the train begin to rumble for departure. Once they started moving, Holan slouched back in his seat, pulling a cigarette and a box of matches from his coat pocket. After lighting one and putting it between his teeth, he pulled out two more and offered them to Margaret and Carden.</p><p>            "No, thanks," answered Carden. "I'm sure my lungs are fucked enough as is."</p><p>            Margaret had heard about the pollution in the peaks, but figured it couldn't be much worse than in other large cities in The Island. When you're trapped within the mountains and in such a high altitude, though, it does make sense that it would make things even worse. She took a cigarette from Holan's hand and reached into her satchel, pulling out an engraved metal lighter.</p><p>            "How long have you had that?" asked Holan.</p><p>            "The whole time, I just haven't needed to use it."</p><p>            "So, you do smoke."</p><p>            Not really. But she needed one last act of rebellion before she had to put on her "sweet little girl face" in front of her parents. "Yeah," she said.</p><p>            She watched Carden as he closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair. He was always so suddenly more relaxed after he was out of a crowd or away from people. Though, it was strange that he seemed more comfortable around her and Holan than she had seen him be before.</p><p> </p><p>"So, anything last things you'd like to tell us before we meet your parents?" asked Holan. They were walking up a long pathway. It twisted and turned in strange ways despite the ground being very flat and green.</p><p>            "Let me do the talking, if they address you, make eye contact, but don't say too much. Keep it simple."</p><p>           </p><p>That was all she said, and it started to make Carden nervous. That wasn't much advice. As they began to reach the front of the house, Carden suddenly felt very small as the large door in front of them towered over them and it made him feel very small.</p><p> </p><p>After Margaret knocked, an older woman in a blue dress and matching hat opened the door.</p><p>            "Margaret!" she said, "You're back! And you've brought friends!"</p><p>            "Nice to see you too, Izzie. Mother and Father home?"</p><p>            "Of course, come in, and I'll let them know you're here."</p><p>            "We'll be in the drawing room."</p><p>            "Yes, miss."</p><p>            As Carden and the others let Izzie and a few others who came to help them take their bags and shoes, Carden realized that she was, in fact, not Margaret's mother, he felt betrayed by Izzie and her welcoming charm.</p><p>            As they entered the room that Margaret had lead them too, she quickly shut the door. "Okay, no sitting, here, have a drink", she said, quickly pouring them a drink from a cart that sat in the corner. "Act like we are just having the best of times, having a good laugh."</p><p> </p><p>            She said that and started to chuckle, and Carden and Holan shared a look that asked Carden if Holan was also thinking that she had just gone mad. But as they exchanged the look, two people came through the doors. A man and a woman, head to toe in lacy pink suits and hats, somehow looking like the two most miserable people in the world.</p><p>            "What <em>have</em> you done to your hair, girl?" asked the woman.  </p>
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